


Harry Lupin Potter and the Consequences of Fame

by RoleplayFanfics



Series: Son of a Werewolf - A Harry Potter reimagining [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Actions may have political consequences, Authorities abusing minors is illegal, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Capable Adults, Capable Hogwarts teachers, Character Development, Character development to side characters, Complete rewrite, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Lupin - Freeform, Harry Potter - Freeform, LGBTQ Themes, LGBTQ+ fiction, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Malfoy family character development, More Neville, More Neville for the people, Multi, Other, POV Harry, POV Harry Lupin, POV Harry Potter, POV Remus Lupin, Parody, Queer Themes, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, Remus adopted Harry, Remus raised Harry, Series, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Using ancient and powerful artifacts for the sake of tradition tends to be a bad idea, Who paid for the Triwizard Tournament????, actions have consequences, changed lore, fourth in a series, heavily changed lore, heavily revised lore, major changes, major plot changes, major story changes, people are actually studying at Hogwarts, queer fiction, revised lore, rewriting harry potter, story changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 101,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoleplayFanfics/pseuds/RoleplayFanfics
Summary: “You just want to see the Quidditch World Cup for yourself, don’t you?” Remus chuckled, teasing his friend, as Sirius so often teased him.Sirius made a face before sinking down further in the chair, whimpering like a dog. “You don’t get it. You just don’t get it. It’s the World Cup, Remus. World. Cup. And Ireland is playing. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity…” He disappeared out of view from sinking so far down on the chair that Remus couldn’t see him anymore. “Of course I want to see it for myself… But I’m also worried about Harry, you know? There is this person who has gone missing in Albania, where Voldemort was last seen. That could mean trouble.”----Fourth book in a series. Harry was raised with love and care by Remus Lupin, resulting in major changes for the entirety of the book series canon.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Vincent Crabbe/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Son of a Werewolf - A Harry Potter reimagining [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854529
Comments: 43
Kudos: 74





	1. Prologue - In which Remus Lupin has tea with an escaped criminal

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you yet again for the support this fanfiction series has received, and for your patience regarding the continuous writing. Once again we release the prologue chapter ahead of time, as a sign that we have begun working on this work. It will still take time as we are in the middle of the completion period of our respective literary didactics studies, and this story is likely to yet again be at the very least the length of Rowling's novel, or more; it is a lot to write and edit.
> 
> ♡♡♡ Thank you all for the comments and kudos on the previous stories; it is always an immense joy to hear what you have to say regarding the rather extensive changes we've made to the series and its lore. ♡♡♡
> 
>  **Important Note:**  
>  We elected to rename the Triwizard Tournament the Trimagus Tournament, and have changed this for the past works as well. There is no good reason for why the name of such a tournament should be gendered in our lore, and we finally came up with a name we were satisfied with. There will be extensive changes to the tournament, and lore notes will be provided, as per the pattern of previous installments of the series, for those points we have created which aren't relevant directly in the story. 
> 
> Further, we have yet again elected to not actually give any tags or archive warnings regarding things which would be spoilers, such as when a relationship is confirmed or if a character survives. As per the usual pattern, if something is especially heavy or potentially triggering in content, the chapter itself will contain trigger warnings at the beginning/top. 
> 
> Following earlier installments, this book will not have any extensive use or mentioning of arachnids either, as Arachnophobia is a common phobia and the arachnids really don't contribute to the narrative of our series the way, say, snakes do.
> 
>  **Series order:**  
>  Harry Lupin Potter and the Path to Self Worth  
> Harry Lupin Potter and the Nature of Evil  
> Harry Lupin Potter and the Scars of the Past  
> Harry Lupin Potter and the Consequences of Fame  
> More to follow
> 
> \---  
> This work is a reimagining of the Harry Potter series, and is written purely without profit, claiming no ownership of content originating from J.K.Rowling’s book series.
> 
> That being said, this reimagining focuses strongly on the importance of identity and one’s right to their own identity and person. Even more so to be in charge of one’s own identity. The series further explores sound logic, humane approaches and will make changes to the world of Harry Potter in attempts to add logic and reason to concepts which the audience may know differently.
> 
> You may find yourself disagreeing with changes and portrayals of the work, and the characters; if you find that this work is not suitable for your tastes, thank you for checking it out. This work will deviate from the canon, both in past and present story points. No excessive commentary is going to result in changes of the plot-line and character portrayals after audience preferences unless deemed absolutely necessary by the fanfiction authors.
> 
> We hope you find joy and potentially even comfort and reassurance in this work!
> 
> Written by Teddy.  
> Edited and co-written by Nathan.  
> Revised lore by Nathan.
> 
> Do not copy this work onto other pages without proper crediting of the both of us, including our AO3 account.

“So what’s for dinner?” Sirius Black asked as he rested his head in his hand, absentmindedly playing with the ear of his teacup as he looked at Remus. His expression was both teasing and smug, but not unkind or mocking. “Chocolate with a dash of your boyfriend?” He continued and reached for the honey, which Remus pushed towards him, saving him from covering the entirety of the table with his body in an attempt to reach the honey jar. 

The two of them were having tea in the basement, not too far away from Remus’ werewolf cage, which was hidden away behind a curtain. Their tea was served on an old table with an unreliably unstable leg which threatened to give away with every nudge of said table. Remus would rather not their tea and snack be ruined because the escaped criminal forgot that he was, in fact, heavier as a human than he was as a dog. 

Snuffles, that is to say, Sirius in his animagus form, had moved in with Remus and Harry after Remus left Hogwarts. Remus had been more than a little worried about the man staying with them. but he was a dog for the most part, and having him around proved more than a little calming. Snuffles was mostly silent, and seemed to spend most days just relaxing or enjoying his freedom by running around in the garden. Most of all, Snuffles slept a lot, as Sirius was still mentally recovering and didn’t have a lot of energy for extensive periods of time. He was more than happy to sleep next to Remus in his bed when the man was experiencing high levels of anxiety, or snuggle up on the couch to keep him company. Unless he was asked to stop, Snuffles followed Remus everywhere and made sure that he was safe and comfortable. Remus very much expected his current relationship with Sirius to be the same as a person with a therapy dog. Except the fact that this dog paid for his own food. 

Sirius had, during some time between escaping from Azkaban and becoming the Lupin household dog, managed to retrieve a rather large sum of money from Gringotts, which he had used a small portion of to buy and send Harry the Firebolt broom last year. Sirius had given all that money to Remus, stating that he had it hidden away in the Shrieking Shack and that the money was probably happier being with Remus than it was hiding under the floorboards of the Shack. It had been hard to accept it at first, but after Sirius presented the money as rent, Remus had finally agreed. The addition of Sirius money made it much easier to feed his son, himself, and the new family pet.

Thanks to Dumbledore, Remus' financial situation was stable for the year to come as well. He had been hired to teach Hagrid throughout the summer and the following year, with the plan that Hagrid would be able to take his teacher’s license and begin working as a full time teacher by the beginning of the following autumn term. Remus was getting paid as much as he had been while teaching at Hogwarts, although he suspected that the reason for that was because the payment was coming from Dumbledore’s own pocket, and the old wizard had money to spare. 

All in all, it wasn’t so bad to live with Sirius, and it did feel good that the broken animagus and escaped criminal badly needed his help and presence too. Sirius had gotten a lot better compared to the state he had been in when they had met again for the first time in twelve years. The animagus spent most of his time in his preferred shape of a dog, but when he did change back into his human shape, it was evident that his health had improved. His bones were no longer visible through his skin, and his cheeks no longer hollowed. His skin had become less dry, his teeth were no longer yellowed, and his hair and beard were not dirty, tangled, or tattered. 

The biggest sign of improvement was the man’s eyes. They were alive with happiness and mischief, rather than only filled with misery and madness. Remus had been somewhat worried that his friend’s improvement would make him hard to deal with, as Sirius has been a very demanding man throughout most of his life, but twelve years in Azkaban had humbled him greatly. He didn’t really ask for anything, and when he did make requests, or teased Remus about something, he didn't do it with malice or cruelty, but friendly familiarity. It was with such familiarity that Sirius spoke to him about Severus Snape, referring to the man as Remus' boyfriend, not with the intention to hurt anyone, but because Remus and Severus were, in fact, dating. 

“No, Severus isn’t coming over today.” Remus smiled at his friend, picking up his own cup to have a sip of his tea. “Although I’m sure you’ll see each other soon enough.” He chuckled as Sirius pretended to pout at him, but then quickly joined him in his laughter.

It felt absolutely impossible for Remus to think that he had a partner, that there was a person who liked him enough to want to be with him.

A person who would visit him, speak to him with soft words, and tell him things in the dark which nobody else had the right to hear. A person with whom to share his bed, and snuggle up to and hold. A person who touched his body and heart, and a person whose heart and body he was allowed to touch in return. 

Remus’ life had not been exactly pleasant since he was revealed to the world as a werewolf. For so many years, he had feared the reveal and what the world might think of him should his condition be known. It was stressful, and he was more anxious than ever to go anywhere where somebody might recognise him as the former werewolf teacher of Hogwarts, as the news seemed to have spread like fiendfyre, but he was managing surprisingly well with the help of Severus, Sirius, and of course his son Harry. Not to mention that he was very lucky in that the reveal of his condition was pretty quickly overshadowed by the announcement that the Quidditch World Cup would be held in the UK that year, with Ireland competing for the World Cup. The news was very likely to be overshadowed by the news of the Trimagus Tournament which would be held at Hogwarts that year. Remus couldn’t wait to simply become a forgotten note in an old newspaper. Of course, the werewolf doubted that he would ever truly be forgotten, as the news had continuously blown up as much as they had because he was none other than the father of ‘Harry Potter.’ 

There were days where he felt completely crushed and didn’t want to get out of bed, but he found himself being able to motivate himself to action by thinking of his child’s needs rather than his own. Sirius was of course helping as well, but the thing which motivated him more than anything else was the fact that Severus and he had somehow become a couple. Despite the world knowing of his condition, and shunning him in turn, Severus had somehow given him a chance. It felt absolutely bizarre to think that in a world which rejected him, he was allowed the comfort and companionship of a man who he had come to find himself hopelessly in love with yet again. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as too much a surprise that Severus would accept him where nobody else would, but since Remus had become an adult and lost most of his friends and associates, too much time had passed for him to truly remember what it felt like in the times he wasn’t hiding from everyone around him. A mere half a year wasn’t enough to get used to such different circumstances.

In hindsight, it was hard to tell when and how they had become a couple. They had grown closer and closer in the aftermath of the reveal, with Severus finding reasons and excuses to remain in close proximity to Remus, and come see him at his house over the summer. One night when Harry and Sirius were asleep, and the two of them found themselves alone. Somehow, the conversation about leaving turned to honesty about needs and desires, and hesitant touches turned into kisses. When he thought back to how they got to the point they were currently at, Remus remembered that night as the night when he knew that he was in love, but he wasn’t sure if it was the night when they began dating. It felt so natural, like it was something they both wanted, and so, they both allowed it to continue. 

Sirius was of course the first person to call them out of their attractions, and the fact that they were more or less dating, and so, it had just happened. Neither of them had any reason to deny it at that point, and the fact that, unlike in their youth, Severus wasn’t attempting to deny it in the slightest made Remus feel overwhelmingly warm and happy.

Remus sometimes feared that the whole thing was just something he was pushing onto Severus, as the man had remained distant to him for a long time, yet Severus continuously informed him that he wanted this as well, although he found it hard to be vocal about his desires and needs. Still, Remus doubted, until his partner found himself somewhat annoyed with his insecurities and pointed out that it was rather rude of Remus to presume that Severus was forcing himself to be with him when he was in fact very happy to be dating the werewolf. After that, Remus didn’t find himself questioning Severus’ words, instead, he found comfort in the knowledge that if Severus wanted their relationship to end, he would say so. 

“So… how did it go, dropping the Lupling off with the Malloys? Are you sure that they are treating you right?” Sirius asked, lifting his cup to his lips and drank. Judging by his displeased expression, the tea was too hot for him still, thus, he put his cup down. 

In his stubbornness, Sirius had elected to call the Malfoys the Malloys, as he didn’t like the family very much and he had decided that nobody would really mind as long as they didn’t hear him. Seeing as he was only human with Remus, and only hidden away in the basement, the werewolf supposed that he could call the Malfoys whatever he wanted. The Lupling was a nickname which one of Harry’s friends had given him, and after learning of it, Sirius had been excited to use the nickname too. Harry allowed it, even if he didn’t yet allow Sirius the usage of his first name. Other than that, Harry wasn’t making things hard for Sirius in any way. It was true that Sirius needed some time to recover before even thinking about the past. Acts like apologising for the past would mean tearing up old scars, which the man truly wasn’t ready for yet.

Remus had always been worrying about how his condition as a werewolf would affect his relationships with other families and mages. However, after it was made known to the world that Harry Potter’s father was a werewolf, he had found himself worrying about how it might affect his son and his friendships. He could accept that his own relationships suffered, but the idea of ruining something for an innocent party made the werewolf highly self conscious and anxious. 

To Remus’ great surprise and relief, Draco Malfoy had other plans than to allow anything to ruin his relationship with Harry Lupin. From what he had learned from Severus and Sirius, Lucius Malfoy’s authority had been challenged by his son, and to everyone’s surprise, Lucius Malfoy had picked his son over his own beliefs. In a sense, it was understandable that a family of such influence as the Malfoys would seek to keep the family together and not lose the one heir to the family, but it still felt quite surprising. While Remus had little doubt that Lucius Malfoy wanted to cut him and Harry out of his son’s life, Draco Malfoy did not allow that to happen. From what Harry told him, his friend had made certain that his father not only allowed him to continue seeing Harry, but also allow him to let his friend visit, just as Harry had been allowed last summer. 

Remus was very happy that Harry’s relationships hadn’t been damaged by him. He still had friends who wrote to him, and wanted to see him over the summer break. Granger had visited a lot during the summer, and judging from her words, her family didn’t know about her former teacher being a werewolf, which might be why they didn’t mind her coming over so often. They didn’t seem bothered to pay for her food while she visited. Not to mention that Sirius was more than happy to play with her cat Crookshanks, which made her visits pleasant for everyone. 

Harry also told him that his friend Nott had been writing a lot as well, he seemed very eager to apologise for the way he had acted when Remus’ condition had been made known, and was apparently still eager to be adopted, referring to some sort of inside joke between the boys. Remus knew that the boy was joking, but it warmed his heart to think that the boy still made those jokes even after he knew of the werewolf’s condition. He had also enclosed a little mechanical toy for Remus in one of his letters, calling it ‘another jumping werewolf so that the other one will have a family.’ The little present meant a lot to Remus, and he kept it on his desk to remind him that his students didn’t all despise him for what he was. 

However well things seemed to be going for Harry and his friendships, Remus had never dreamt that he would be allowed inside the Malfoy Manor ever again. Thus, it was with great surprise that he found Narcissa Malfoy waiting for him when he had come to drop Harry off. Adding to that surprise was the fact that she and her son weren’t alone, but that Severus had been with her. Narcissa Malfoy had, with a displeased look on her face, and a sternness to her body language, welcomed Remus inside for tea. Rather than welcome, her voice had made it clear that she wouldn’t accept a refusal, and so, Remus had found himself in the very same tearoom as last summer, only this time, Severus was there too, and Madam Malfoy seemed highly displeased with at least one of her guests. 

“My son has continuously informed me throughout the summer that I should speak with you both about the... information which was revealed earlier this spring.” Naricssa had said, speaking of course of the werewolf incident as she sat down in chair, staring them both down. “And he has continuously informed me that I should speak with you both, as one of you is an expert of the subject and the other has… the experience required to confirm the information. Thus…. I ask you both… explain. I shall listen.” 

The day had been slow and exhausting, and their conversation had continued for hours, with Severus doing most of the talking, and Remus remaining silent by his side, trying to not give in to the rising anxiety within him. Severus was essentially giving her the same lesson as he had to his students, using facts and history to back up his words to an even greater extent when dealing with an adult.

By the end of their discussion, Narcissa had questioned his words with the fact that if all of this had been true, how was it that Severus hadn't told her about it earlier.

To this, Severus had calmly responded that he could have told her at any time, but that she hadn’t been ready to listen to his words, much to the Madam’s displeasure, but she didn’t argue.

She had pondered this for almost a minute, before she slowly admitted to herself and the two men that she had been wrong about werewolves, and that she would no longer have a problem with her son’s best friend and the friend’s father. She did not make any grand exclamations about no longer being prejudiced against werewolves, or accepting them all as the same, but she seemed to have decided that she would no longer lock Remus away from her life because of his illness. Remus didn’t feel like he had specifically gained much more of a friend in her than he had previously, but he felt like she was no longer opposed to him. Before he left with Severus, she made a point out of extending an open invitation to her household, should Remus want to visit alongside his son. Remus had yet to take her up on her offer, but he highly appreciated it. 

Well back in his home, Severus had expressed his relief in that Narcissa had accepted his words to be true, as she was a very sheltered person, who didn’t quite know or care about the world outside her mansion. He stated that it was good for her to have knowledge of the world outside her home, as she had a bad habit of locking herself away from anything which didn’t quite fit into the worldview which she had been taught to believe in since childhood. Be it the fact that werewolves were but sick, not dangerous people and not beasts, or the fact that science disproved her highly treasured elitist Pureblood beliefs, it was quite the challenge for the woman to adapt to the matters without interacting with the world around her the way her son had. The man who was her son’s Godfather was clearly pleased that he had been able to widen her references, and that it had the benefit of making her no longer treat his partner as something Remus was not. 

“The Malfoys are trying hard to not treat me badly. I can tell that it isn’t easy for them, but they are being more respectful than I could ever dare hoping. Not to mention that they are treating Harry well when he stays over.” Remus smiled at his old friend, calmly drinking some of his tea. 

“I sure wish I could come with him tomorrow… Just to, you know, keep an eye on him.” Sirius sighed as he leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling with a longing expression on his face. 

“You just want to see the Quidditch World Cup for yourself, don’t you?” Remus chuckled, teasing his friend, as Sirius so often teased him. 

Sirius made a face before sinking down further in the chair, whimpering like a dog. “You don’t get it. You just don’t get it. It’s the World Cup, Remus. World. Cup. And Ireland is playing. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity…” He disappeared out of view from sinking so far down on the chair that Remus couldn’t see him anymore. “Of course I want to see it for myself… But I’m also worried about Harry, you know? There is this person who has gone missing in Albania, where Voldemort was last seen. That could mean trouble.” 

Remus gave him a weak, joyless smile. “I know… her disappearance bothers me too, but I don’t think that it's necessarily connected to the Dark Lord. The Ministry is doing their best to find her, we truly do not know more than that.” 

“What if Death Eaters show up at the game?” Sirius sat up again, his expression tense and his eyes nervous. “What if Malloy would try to sell Har-, the Lupling out to his Death Eater buddies?” 

“Sirius, please…” Remus wasn’t begging his friend to stop speaking because of his accusations, but because Sirius’ paranoia reflected Remus fears as well. “I know how you feel, and I do not trust Lucius Malfoy either, but I do trust that he has been able to get this far by denying all ties to the Death Eaters. For him to try something after the Chamber of Secrets, and while trying to prove himself to his son and the world, would be political and societal suicide. He couldn’t possibly let any harm come to Harry, or the world will seek justice. Not to mention that his son would. I have been assured that they will leave right after the game, and return to Malfoy Manor. Harry has been safe this entire time in their household, I am certain that Malfoy won’t seek to harm him.” 

“Hm. If he tries, I will eat his head.” The escaped prisoner mumbled at his teacup. Remus didn’t doubt that he would try. 

The werewolf took a deep breath and lifted his own cup to his lips, trying hard to not think of the words which his partner had spoken when Remus asked him about Lucius Malfoy. Severus’ face had become stern, twisting into the mask of displeasure which so many thought was the one and only expression he was capable of making. 

“Remus,” he had said, his voice lowering to a somber, yet audible tone. “Make no mistake. Lucius Malfoy was, and will doubtlessly always be, a Death Eater. Be wary of him.”

Remus and Sirius had always been rather certain that the man was a Death Eater, the confirmation from Severus was all that they needed to know beyond doubt. However, Remus didn’t want to believe that Lucius Malfoy couldn’t possibly change. He had already proven to be changing. If he could actively hide and rely on the escaped criminal Sirius Black, as well as love a man who most students found terrifying beyond belief, why shouldn’t he allow Lucius Malfoy to at the very least try to change for the better? 

Remus hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake in allowing Harry to go to the Quidditch World Cup with his best friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Teaching License**  
>  Much like real universities have courses and administrations to deal with such, there are tests to perform in and an official license to attain, as a minimum requirement to be allowed to work in different subjects. 
> 
> Yes, Lockhart did pass the exam years back, but ended up being an author and fraud rather than a teacher. The system is slightly flawed in the fact that the license does not expire and it had been quite a few years since he had actually taken it.
> 
> Seeing the mage society is structurally behind in certain areas of school administrations, it mostly follows the concept of passing the exams to acquire the license, and most commonly someone either studies individually for it or finds themselves a mentor to study under.


	2. Chapter 1 - In which Lucius Malfoy tries very hard to be a better father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you like to go to the Quidditch World Cup with me and father, Harry?”
> 
> Draco Malfoy’s question had come as a surprise, but before Harry could answer him, or vocally express his confusion, the blonde wizard had continued on. “Father got tickets for the Cup. He wanted to go with me and mother, but she isn’t too interested in sports. Mother suggested we take you with us instead of her. I know you don’t enjoy Quidditch but, well… I do not feel too comfortable going alone with father, and the game will be held in Ireland, so it is not even that far from here.” He took a deep breath, finally looking Harry in the eyes. He didn’t appear shy, but he did appear hesitant. “I suppose that… I’d feel better if you come with us. I won’t demand anything, but I would really be… thankful for your company.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the process of this installment is going to take very long, due to our studies and work, we have elected to post at least two more chapters, beside the prologue. We are likely to post different content chunks at a time, and attempt to not stop at any too big cliff hangers, but allow decently satisfying conclusions to the chapters we post, such as the Quidditch World Cup here.

“Would you like to go to the Quidditch World Cup with me and father, Harry?”

Draco Malfoy’s question had come as a surprise, but before Harry could answer him, or vocally express his confusion, the blonde wizard had continued on. “Father got tickets for the Cup. He wanted to go with me and mother, but she isn’t too interested in sports. Mother suggested we take you with us instead of her. I know you don’t enjoy Quidditch but, well… I do not feel too comfortable going alone with father, and the game will be held in Ireland, so it is not even that far from here.” He took a deep breath, finally looking Harry in the eyes. He didn’t appear shy, but he did appear hesitant. “I suppose that… I’d feel better if you come with us. I won’t demand anything, but I would really be… thankful for your company.” 

Harry had spent a lot of the summer at Malfoy Manor, and he had been surprised by the fact that he was still welcome there. Draco’s parents weren’t necessarily familiar with him, he always felt distant to them, but he was beginning to think that it was just the way the family was, so he didn’t take it personally. The mansion was a strange place to be in, a place which never quite felt familiar or known to Harry. It had been far easier when he had been new to the mansion together with two of their friends last year, but the more time he spent in the place, the less familiar it felt. He could never quite shake the feeling that he was a stranger in the Manor, an unwelcome guest who might disappear into a painting, or get lost in the hallways to never be found again. In this house of unfamiliar sights and strange scents, Draco’s room was a safe place. At the very least, the teenager’s room was familiar to Harry by now, and it felt good to be there. 

They were both seated on the blonde wizard’s bed, both of them reading quietly before Draco spoke up. They had just had dinner, and Harry felt warm and comfortable upon the soft bed together with his friend. Draco hadn’t changed much over the summer, but to Harry’s small dismay, he had grown even taller, while Harry himself seemed to just have stopped growing altogether. He hoped that his bones would squeeze out a few more centimeters to add to his height, but he was beginning to think that it wasn’t going to happen. 

Hermione Granger had caught up with Harry as well, the two of them reaching around the same height by now. Harry had noticed it since long back, seeing as she had been staying over a lot during the summer. She hadn’t specifically been vocal about her reasons for wanting to stay over a lot during the break, but judging by what little she did say about her situation, she seemingly found her home to be stressful and uncomfortable for the moment. She had mentioned something about how her voice was growing darker, and how she was outgrowing her clothes. Her mother was trying to bring her on shopping tours, which was making her feel bad and insecure. Harry hadn’t asked further, but instead opted to try and keep her mind off the bad things, rather than force her to make a confession which she didn't seem ready ready to make.

He hadn’t seen Neville for most of the summer, but the two of them were writing a lot to one another. Hermione had been coming over to Neville’s house as well as Harry’s, but Neville’s grandmother Augusta Longbottom had forbidden werewolves or werewolf children in her house. She didn’t want to help Neville visit Harry either, so the two friends were locked away from one another. It was uncomfortable to learn that the old witch disapproved of him and his dad, but Neville had assured him that he did not share her feelings in the least. He was still considering Remus to be the best teacher he had ever had, and highly valued Harry as his friend. The Gryffindor boy had assured him that by the time they were back in Hogwarts, he would not treat or think any differently of Harry than he did before the summer break. His assuring words made the son of a werewolf feel a lot better, and he longed to see his friend and give him a hug. A big one. 

As for Ronald Weasley, who had requested to be called Ron, as he didn’t like the lack of identity in his surname, he and Harry had been writing a little to one another. They really didn’t have that much in common with one another, but as the Weasleys were very accepting people, it still felt good to write to the teenager, if only for the confirmation that there really were families out there who weren’t prejudiced towards werewolves or their families. He got to learn a little more about the red haired family, and Ron’s many brothers and single sister, but only because they were mentioned in passing. Harry, in turn, told him about books he had read, as he couldn’t think of anything else to write about. 

The last time they wrote to one another, Ron was announcing that his dad had gotten tickets for the Quidditch World Cup which would be held in Ireland. Ron’s two eldest brothers weren’t interested in going, so they had two tickets over which Ron planned on sharing with Hermione and Neville. He wrote to Harry to make certain that he didn’t feel left out, should Ron bring the two Gryffindor students with him and his family. Harry did of course not mind in the least, as he didn’t like Quidditch, and was happy to hear that Ron had actually gotten friends to be with. Not that he wrote the last bit to the teenager, but he did mention it to his dad and dogfather. 

Harry had imagined that that was the last he’d hear about the Quidditch World Cup until he would meet his friends on their way back to Hogwarts. He had not imagined to be offered a ticket of his very own. 

“...I… I mean, I…” Harry stuttered as he processed his friend’s request. “I will have to ask dad first, but if you want me to come with you, I don’t mind. I still don’t know a lot about the game, but if I’m with you, I’m sure it will be fun.” He smiled at the other teenager, earning a smile back. 

“That’s great.” Draco was visibly more relaxed after Harry accepted his invitation. “According to father, we have the best seats, and I’ll explain everything to you about Quidditch yet again.” He teased, chuckling as Harry’s expression revealed him to not remember the rules clearly. “Professional Quidditch is played with different rules than school Quidditch at Hogwarts. I’ll explain them on the day of the game, rather than now, or you will forget it.” 

“Hey, I’m not that absentminded.” Harry pouted at his friend, before shaking his head and raising his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, I don’t know what it is about Quidditch, but I keep forgetting the details. At least I know that you are the Seeker, and that you are trying to catch the Golden Snitch, while everyone else plays to get points by throwing the… the… big ball… And there are small balls which attack people, they are called Bludgers. And the Chasers are trying to get the big ball through the rings on the other end of the stadium.” 

Draco laughed merrily at him, his expression kind despite him laughing at Harry. “Big ball… Hoh.” He snorted, shaking his head. “You sure have a way with words, don’t you?” He chuckled. 

“I do, just not… sports words.” Harry waved his hand, as if he could chase away the red blush from his cheeks by doing so. It didn’t work. “I will ask dad about it, and we’ll see if he minds or not.” 

“I hope he doesn’t.” Draco smiled as he laid back in his bed, picking his book up once more. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I hope he’ll let you go.” 

Remus wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of letting his son go to the Quidditch World Cup, but he was in no way opposing letting Harry go there if he wanted to. Sirius very much thought that Harry should go, until he realised that the offer came from the Malfoy family. At that point, he became somewhat doubtful about Harry going, but it was easy to see that he was excited about the idea of the Quidditch World Cup as a whole. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little happy in return, as his dogfather was struggling with finding happiness in anything. It was good to see him excited about something, although neither Harry nor Remus shared in the excitement. 

Remus' biggest worry came in the form of considering Harry’s safety. Before he agreed to even consider the offer, he wanted to speak to Lucius Malfoy about the whole arrangement, and learn in what way they would be travelling back and forth, among other details. The meeting was the first time Remus and Mr. Malfoy had ever really spoken to one another. From what Remus later told Harry, it was stiff and strained, but they managed to communicate with one another until Remus’ worries about his child’s safety had been settled. 

The idea was for Harry and the two Malfoys to travel by Portkey to the location of the Quidditch World Cup, whereas they would attend the game, and then return home without getting involved with the celebrations. Neither Harry nor Remus wanted the little group to remain afterwards, as they were both aware of how loud those celebrations were likely to become, and didn’t trust the mages present to not be rowdy. Thus, it was important to the Lupins that Harry wasn’t caught in a loud place with nowhere to escape, and instead came back home safely. Neither of the Malfoys found that to be unreasonable, and Mr. Malfoy assured the werewolf that they would leave as soon as the game was over. After speaking with Harry and Draco to hear their opinions, it was arranged that Harry would sleep over at the mansion before Remus came to get him the next day, as to not tire the boy out too much with travelling. 

As they wouldn’t be staying, there was no time to meet Hermione, Neville and Ron after the game, thus, the friends set out to arrange a meeting before the game started. At first, Lucius Malfoy was less than eager to venture out among the tents and the people for the sake of his child meeting Arthur Weasley’s boy and his Gryffindor friends, but after some discussion with his son, he yielded and agreed to come with the boys to meet their friends. Draco had phrased it as some manner of final evidence that his father had mended his ways, if he could actually treat these people with dignity. The meeting was arranged by Draco and Hermione, who acted as ambassador for the Weasley group. Harry could tell that Mr. Malfoy was less than pleased that Mr. Weasley agreed to the meeting, but he tried to act with dignity and surrendered to that it was what the children wanted. 

Harry was woken up by someone lightly shaking him. He objected to the touch and made a valiant attempt of disappearing under the covers, but the covers were removed from him. Harry grunted and opened his eyes, sleepily blinking up at the unclear image of his best friend. He reached for his glasses and placed them on his nose, before once more looking up at the blonde teenager who had woken him. 

A room had been prepared for Harry back when he first started spending time at the estate, but after having been scared half to death by a House Elf who had been tasked with lighting a fire in his room as the night had proven to be very cold, he had hastily migrated to Draco’s room and his bed, where he had slept every time he came over after that. Draco didn’t mind, and nobody bothered to tell his parents, just in case one of them would have a problem with it. 

“Good morning,” Draco’s voice carried with it an excitement and energy which Harry associated with his passion for Quidditch. “Today is the day. The big day. I can’t believe it… Ireland has a chance for the World Cup… I just know it, this day will be remembered by history.”

“Gnurm…” Harry responded as he remembered where he was. He smiled weakly at his friend’s enthusiasm as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Good morning.”

Draco smiled at him before getting up from the bed and headed towards his clothes which lay waiting for him on the chair assigned for clothes. Harry would have to pull his clothes out of his bag and put them on as well. He still found it strange to be clothed by breakfast, rather than remain in pajamas until after food, but he had sort of adapted to the way in which the Malfoys did things.

“See, we will be travelling by Portkey, it is rather straining on the body, thus, we will not eat until after we have travelled.” Draco explained, probably for the fifth time, as he and Harry got dressed. Harry was glad that it was summer, or he imagined that the floor would be very cold. “However, father has arranged food for us when we arrive, so that will not be a problem.” Draco assured him, to which Harry nodded. 

“I know…” He yawned as he pulled his trousers on and found that he was missing a sock. Harry began searching for it. “You’ve said it a few times now.” He chuckled as Draco’s cheeks heated slightly. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you remembered it.” He defended himself. “You had never travelled by Portkey before, right?” 

“No, but I have apparated with dad. It wasn’t very comfortable.” Harry sighed, remembering just how ill he had felt when they had reached their destination. “I think I’ll be alright.” 

“Just know that you can ask if you need to breathe for a few moments after using the Portkey.” Draco finished buttoning up his shirt and turned to Harry. “Where is your other sock?” He asked, noticing that Harry hadn’t found it yet.

Harry flashed him an apologetic smile. “I’m searching for it as we speak. And I do know that, but thank you either way.” 

Lucius and Draco Malfoy were dressed in a similar manner, although Mr. Malfoy’s clothing was far more elaborate. While Draco was wearing black clothing with a blazer, trousers, west and a while collared shirt, all of which would make it easier for him to move, his father wore a black cape decorated with black fur lining and snake themed accessory over other elaborately patterned but still all black clothing. In his hand, Mr. Malfoy was holding his decorated snake cane, an item which Harry found to be very beautiful. The detail of the silver head of the snake was exquisite, it had probably cost more than the Lupin family’s entire house, or so Harry thought. Both of the Malfoys looked more like they were going to the opera, rather than appear to be going to a sports event. Harry couldn’t help but feel underdressed, even though Draco had assured him that he need not worry about it. 

Mr. Malfoy looked at the clock behind the two teenagers and nodded to himself. The clock had just passed ten while the older Malfoy corrected his son’s collar. “If you are both collected, then let us be off. I expect that you both remain with me at all times during the game, and do not under any circumstances wander off on your own, even when you do meet your associates. Is that understood?” 

“Yes father.” Draco responded. 

“Yes, Sir.” Assured Harry. 

“Very well, you will be sharing the top stand together with the Minister of Magic himself, and other wealthy or otherwise respectable members of both the British and the Bulgarian Mage societies, as well as possible other visitors from other countries. I expect you to act as good examples of our society, and present yourselves respectable and honorably. Only speak to adults after they have spoken to you, and do by no means engage in any kind of argument or display confrontational behavior.” Mr. Malfoy continued, causing both boys to nod. 

Harry felt more than a little uncomfortable with the displeased look the older Malfoy gave him, but he understood what was asked of him and why. 

“As for you, Mr. Lupin,” the man continued, causing Harry to tense up and focus his attention even harder on the man. “You shall be introduced as the associate of my son, with your name being the one which you prefer. However, should anyone identify you as Harry Potter, I will speak for you, and do my utmost to preserve your dignity.” 

Harry nodded once more, giving the man a small but thankful smile. He wasn’t entirely sure what Lucius meant when he said that he would preserve his dignity, but the man’s expression was so serious that Harry couldn’t help but believe that Mr. Malfoy wanted to assure Harry that he had the right to his preferred name. It felt good to know that someone as distant and cold like Lucius Malfoy cared about allowing Harry to be ‘Lupin’ rather than demand him to be ‘Potter.’ It may not have been the case when they were complete strangers, but they weren't strangers anymore, and Mr. Malfoy had adapted well and easily to using the right name.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you.” The son of a werewolf bowed his head slightly, earning a nod of approval from the man in question. 

“Good. We shall ride by carriage to a spot which is located roughly thirty minutes from here. Then we shall proceed by Portkey and… meet up… with the Weasley company.” He couldn’t hide his sour tone while speaking about the Weasleys, or could he stop from scowling, yet the man had at the very least made an attempt to not show how displeased he was with the situation. “We will then access our seats in the Minister of Magic’s own box, attend the game, and then travel back here afterwards as agreed by me and Mr. Lupin. Is there anything you find unclear?” As he asked, he looked at Harry, clearly expecting him to have something to question. 

Harry shook his head, as did Draco, both confirming that they understood everything that had been said. With their confirmation, Mr. Malfoy decided to bring them out to the black carriage, which stood waiting for them outside. 

The ride was somewhat tense, until Draco began speaking to Harry. The man didn’t pay them much mind, instead, he remained seated as he looked out the window, calmly observing the world pass by. It was a relief to have the other teenager break the silence, rather than allowing the suffocating lack of conversation to continue for a whole thirty minutes. 

“You see, professional Quidditch plays differently than old Quidditch, you know how in our school tournaments, we only have a time restriction if the game continues on past four hours, and the Golden Snitch is worth 150 points?” Draco looked at his friend, expecting an answer before he continued. 

“Yes, it’s sort of like playing two games at once, and only one really matters. It’s almost like the rest of the players are just… there? It’s hard to make anything matter at all when the Golden Snitch is worth that many points.” Harry looked at his friend, feeling worried that Draco would feel insulted by him questioning the rules of Quidditch to his face. 

To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy nodded. “You are not wrong. Added to that is the fact that the Beaters aren’t allowed to in any way attack or engage with the Seekers, they really do play outside of the rest of the game. Thus, professional Quidditch has embraced the fact that there are two different games being played on the same field. The players who aren’t Seekers are playing the same game as you know, namely the Chasers trying to get the Quaffler through the rings and score points, while the Keeper guards the rings, and the Beaters trying to knock the other players off their brooms with the help of the Bludgers. The second game, the Game of Seekers, is a sort of terrain or obstacle course, as they have to play alongside another game while not getting caught up in it or interrupting it, while scoring points for their team by catching the various Golden Snitches.” 

“There is more than one?” Harry questioned, trying to memorize all of the added and different rules. 

“Oh yes. Professional Quidditch has a set time of two hours, with a fifteen minute break in the middle. Thus, there are a total of ten Golden Snitches for the Seekers to catch. As it is an even number, that means that the Game of Seekers cannot easily overtake the lead in points, which makes the Game of Seekers an addition to the Quidditch game. Every Golden Snitch is worth forty points, so if a Seeker could actually catch them all, their team would get a massive lead of four hundred points.” He grinned as he talked about the Seeker’s importance to the game. It was clear that he was proud of the position he played, even though he wasn’t actually playing with the sports approved Quidditch rules in school. 

“Most of the time, the battle for the Golden Snitches is so fierce and the players so good that it’s rare for a Game of Seekers to end with more than a six - four in total numbers of Snitches caught. Most of the time, they truly do end up being five and five if all the Snitches are caught. It’s not always that they manage to catch them all during one game.” Draco was rambling now, his passion for Quidditch having overtaken him. “The Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, is highly praised for being a very skilled flier and Seeker, he once caught two Snitches by the time span of five minutes. He’s incredible. And he’s still in school, just turned eighteen.” 

“What happens when all the Golden Snitches are caught? Does that end the game earlier?” Harry asked, leaning forward to show his friend that he was paying attention. 

“If that happens, then the Game of Seekers concludes, not the entire game. There are some very interesting discussions to be had about the psychological warfare in having all the Snitches caught, versus leaving some for last minute play. There have been a few games where all the Snitches are caught, and those games immediately become more focused on blocking rather than scoring, which has lead to several losses when teams became unfocused and relaxed. Similarly, if the Seekers do not catch the Snitches as fast as possible, considering the team spirit and game as a whole, they instead risk losing the points to the other team, but I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Draco laughed to himself as he glanced towards his father, who didn’t seem inclined to comment. 

“It’s interesting. Besides, you always ramble a little bit when it comes to Quidditch. I don’t mind.” Harry assured him, trying to not make it sound like a bad thing. “Anything else I should know?” 

As he asked, the carriage came to a halt, signalling that they had arrived at their destination. The door swung open, allowing them to exit their vehicle. Mr. Malfoy stepped out first, followed by his son and then Harry. They were standing in what seemed to be essentially nowhere, big, grassy fields stretching before them, with a little forest behind them. Mr. Malfoy moved his cane in a soft, controlled manner, and a small blue trail of smoke appeared, leading into the woods, down a small pathway. The man told the driver to be off, before he began following the trail, causing the two teenagers to follow him. Soon enough, they found where the smoke had stopped, snaking around a rock which was hidden up in a tree. Without the trail of smoke, it would have been nearly impossible to notice it. 

“Is that a Portkey?” Harry whispered to Draco, who nodded in return. 

“Yes, they are made to look inconspicuous and ordinary so that Muggles won’t want to touch or play with them. However, anything which looks man made might be interacted with, so instead they started to use rocks or branches or organic things, and hid them away where Muggles usually don’t travel.” Draco explained. 

In front of them, Mr. Malfoy used his cane once more, moving it towards the rock and then pulled back, causing the item to come floating down from the branch and hover in front of him. In a controlled movement, he took off the soft glove from one of his hands. “Both of you, grab onto my arm. When I touch the Portkey, you will be pulled alongside me. If we all try to touch it at the same time, one of you might be too late or too early, causing us trouble. Thus, you grab me, and I shall grab the rock.” 

Draco grabbed the arm which was being offered to him, urging Harry to grab it as well. Harry felt uncomfortable grabbing the expensive fabric of the man’s coat, but he did it nonetheless, carefully holding on to the sleeve. 

“You must hold onto me tighter or you might be pulled away from me.” Mr. Malfoy sighed.

His comment caused Harry to hold on to him harder as his cheeks heated. He had tried to be respectful by keeping his grip loose, but it seemed that hadn’t been an option. Draco glanced at his friend before wrapping an arm around him, holding on tightly to his clothes to not allow Harry to be ripped away from them, should he lose his grip. Harry gave him a comforted smile, one which the blonde boy returned with a smile of his own. 

Then Lucius Malfoy touched the stone. 

Harry quickly learned that he didn’t like travelling by Portkey. He felt as if something had hooked itself somewhere under his navel, causing him to feel like his guts were being yanked forward, prompting the rest of him to follow. Harry closed his eyes as the world began to swish by, clinging to the arm which was offered to him. Somewhere next to him, he felt that Draco’s grip had turned stronger as well, causing Harry to conclude that his friend might fear that Harry would lose his grip on Mr. Malfoy. 

Then the horrible feeling was over, causing Harry to almost fall over. Draco seemed equally unsteady, but the older Malfoy grabbed them both, supporting them from falling as they found themselves standing on solid ground once more. Draco groaned softly as Harry placed a hand over his stomach, as he felt like he had to check that the invisible hook was really gone. It was, which was a relief. 

As the two teenagers recovered from the travelling, Mr. Malfoy stood next to them. He was still holding the stone, which he placed in one of his inner pockets. Harry assumed that touching it again would trigger a return to the place where they had picked the Portkey up. 

“Are you two quite collected again?” The man asked as he closed his coat, leaning against his staff as he looked his son and his friend over. He reached out to correct his son’s clothes, making sure that he was presentable once more. 

“Yes, father.” Draco allowed the man to fuss, before he turned towards Harry. After looking him over, he reached out and corrected his hair, helping his friend hide his scar from view. 

“Thank you.” Harry looked down upon himself and corrected his jacket before looking around at where they were. 

He found himself staring out over green empty fields and plains, but it seemed to mostly be untouched natural plains, rather than any cultivated grounds. As he looked about, it truly seemed they were out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere, with forest areas rising around them. After looking about a little, Harry realised that there was a single visible thing, standing out from the surrounding area. There was a little tent, just a short walk from where they were standing, where there seemed to be two people standing about. Both of the women looked not too different from Muggles out on a hike, or at least so Harry thought as their little group approached said women. 

With elegance and purpose, Mr. Malfoy brought out their tickets for the women to inspect, whereas one of the women brought out a wand and directed it out behind them, seemingly doing something, or speaking some sort of spell rather silently. 

Once again, Mr. Malfoy and his son started walking, so Harry assumed he should simply follow. He wasn't too used to the security around large events as such, as he and his dad had generally avoided larger events and public areas for most of their lives. 

The son of a werewolf had not expected the sight of the field to suddenly change right before his eyes, by merely taking another step forward. He stopped in his tracks, as colors, noises, and far too many impressions assaulted his mind all at once. The area had evidently been put under a Concealment Charm to keep it hidden from the Muggle world and Muggle surveillance. 

In front of them was a huge Quidditch arena, or well, Harry assumed it to be an arena hidden within a giant stadium, and monstrously large stands. Simply staring at the stadium made the boy realise just how many people were probably attending. 

The group turned from the giant beast stands which rose high in the sky, hiding the giant arena where the Quidditch World Cup would take place, to instead walk towards the myriad of tents which stretched before them like strewn about trash on a beach. Without the littering of tents and the endless moving of the mages, the view had been spectacular, before entering within the concealed area. Around them, people were passing, paying no attention to their group. Harry felt himself becoming somewhat uncomfortable almost right away, as the sounds all around him were already hurting his head, and the close proximity of so many people made him feel stressed. Draco noticed, and sneaked his hand into Harry’s, giving it a squeeze. Harry held it back, thankful for the reminder that he wasn’t alone. 

Mr. Malfoy clicked his tongue in a display of disapproval before he began to walk towards the tents. He didn’t seem to be displeased with what the teenagers were doing, but instead disapproved of walking down among the tents. The man stopped to look at a map over the area before continuing again. The Weasleys’ tent lot was Grindylow 23 and 24, which didn’t take too long for the blonde man to find on the map, thus, he strode towards their location, his head held high and his expression a mask of disinterest. Harry and the man’s son followed him, easily walking behind him in the space which Mr. Malfoy’s presence created, as people mostly stepped out of the way for him. Harry secretly revelled in the fact that Lucius Malfoy was far more important than him, and that it was so easy to disappear in his shadow, as few people would pay attention to the shabby looking child next to the overpowering presence of Lucius Malfoy. 

The Weasleys were easy to spot, not because their tent looked any different from any other tent, but because Arthur Weasley was standing outside of it, speaking to another man who looked far too well dressed to be standing amongst the shabby tents. Just like Mr. Malfoy, the man appeared to be more suited for an expensive office, rather than to be standing on the grass outside in a messy field. He had short grey hair with a neat parting and a narrow toothbrush-like moustache. The man wore a black suit and highly polished shoes, the first impression he gave Harry was that of a Muggle businessman. The man had clearly attempted to disguise himself. 

The man noticed Mr. Malfoy first. Judging by his expression, he would never have expected to find the man out here among the rabble of mages. “Lucius. I believed I wouldn’t meet you until the game began.” The man’s voice was strange, forceful and direct, as if he was interrogating whoever he was addressing, demanding an answer rather than making any type of statement. Harry got the feeling that the man was an Auror, or at least was working within a magical law office. The way he was looking at Mr. Malfoy was somewhat unsettling, it was as if the man did not so much look at another person, but instead at a traitor, or at the very least a man whom he did not respect. 

Mr. Weasley turned towards the blonde man and the teenagers with him. He was dressed as a Muggle as well, in older clothing which colors had become paler with time, making his whole appearance seem faded and tattered. He didn’t seem entirely pleased to see Mr. Malfoy, but tried his best to hide it. Harry got a feeling that the two men would drive one another insane for the following hours by pretending to be polite to one another. He glanced towards Draco, trying to ask him with his eyes if the blonde boy really thought that this was a good idea. Draco didn’t notice Harry’s questioning eyes, instead he focused on his father, seemingly wanting to remind him with his gaze that this whole situation was in fact a test which he needed to overcome if he wanted his son to believe in him again. 

“Bartemius.” Mr. Malfoy extended his hand to the other man, who shook it in return, despite seeming unhappy about touching the blonde man. Harry noticed an expensive looking silver ring on the Mr.Malfoy's finger, shaped like a snake. He wondered if the man wore the piece of jewelry to display his wealth in front of Arthur Weasley. “I see I’m not the only one wandering about among the tents. Draco, Lupin, this is Minister Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” 

Harry saw something in Draco’s eyes before the blonde boy averted his gaze from the Minister. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He stated in a polite voice. 

“Good day, sir.” Harry more or less echoed, bowing his head slightly as he felt the man’s stern gaze shift to him. 

“...Enjoy the game, children. I have duties to attend to. See you at work, Arthur. Good bye Lucius.” The man didn’t remain but walked away with a brisk pace. 

Harry got the feeling that the man didn’t like Mr. Malfoy in the least, and he was rather certain that the dislike had travelled on to Harry as well. He wondered if the man had connected his name to the werewolf incident earlier that year, and deemed Harry unworthy in some manner. It wasn’t the first time he had experienced werewolf prejudice, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Luckily for Harry though, the unpleasant meeting with Crouch was over, and a far more pleasant meeting was heading his way in the form of Hermione, who had noticed him and Draco, and was hurrying towards them, her face lit up by a grin. 

“Harry! Malfoy!” Hermione stopped in front of them, having changed her mind about hugging them when she realised that Mr. Malfoy was right next to them. Her long hair had been gathered in a semi bun on top of her head, but it was already falling out of it, sending pleasant curls hanging over her face and neck. She had grown a little taller than last year, her soft face beginning to become harder when puberty had begun to change her. Her voice had grown darker during the summer, but she seemed to be making an effort to speak in a lighter voice to hide it. Harry hadn’t seen the clothes she was wearing before, so he assumed that her mother had made her go shop for new clothes. The aforementioned clothes appeared more masculine than her previous choices, but Harry wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not. 

“Hermione, your hair looks great.” Harry moved forward to hug her. She might not be able to hug Draco there and then, but there was nothing stopping him from hugging her. The hug was somewhat distant, as if Hermione was scared of bodily contact. Harry didn’t mind, instead tried his best to respect her boundaries and simply hugged her carefully. 

“Thank you.” Her cheeks turned red as she hastily pulled back. “I tried to keep it away from my face but it doesn’t seem to be working…” She sighed as Neville and Ron caught up with them. 

Seeing Neville again after not having seen him the entire summer made for quite the shock when they finally did meet like this. Puberty was clearly changing him, his soft, round face was becoming longer and more defined. His hair had grown into somewhat thin curls, which seemed to frame his face in ways which highlighted the change from soft to firm. He had grown taller as well, and his lips seemed to be plumper and redder than Harry remembered them. Both Harry and Draco were evidently staring at him, for the teenager’s cheeks appeared to heat and he avoided their gazes. “W-what… why are you both looking at me like that…?” He mumbled, causing both teenagers to realise their actions. 

“Sorry!” Harry gave him an apologetic smile. “You look… really good. It’s been so long since I saw you that I just… I didn’t mean to stare.”

Neville turned even redder as he waved at Harry. “Sh-sheesh. Thanks. I think. I mean, I do think, thanks, just, uh…” He trailed off. “You look good too. The longer hair suits you.” He smiled and shrugged, seeming to slowly regain his composure. 

Harry nodded from side to side. “Thanks, I’m just trying it out to see if I like it.” 

“It looks nice.” Hermione agreed with Neville. Her cheeks were somewhat red as well, but Harry didn’t know for what reason. 

Behind the children, the two adult men exchanged a short greeting. 

“Arthur.” 

“Lucius.” 

Ron stood a bit to the side while Neville and Harry hugged one another in a greeting, patiently waiting for there to be an opportunity for him to say hello. As he waited, he absently played with the scars on his fingertips, studying the group before him as if he had no place inside of it. Harry noticed, thus he turned towards the red haired teenager. 

Ron had grown taller as well, not as tall as Neville, but nonetheless taller. His hair had grown longer, and was parted to fall around his face in waves. He was growing more handsome as well, but not quite as handsome as Neville. Both teenagers appeared to be working out as both of them, as well as Draco, wanted to play Quidditch. Harry wasn’t too surprised to realise that all of them were becoming more physically fit than he was. However, while it was easy to see that Draco and Neville were appealing to him, it was hard to think of Ron as handsome. Harry couldn’t think of any reason as to why that was, but he supposed it could have to do with the fact that Ron wasn’t as close a friend to him as the other two teenagers. 

“Hey.” Ron said, flashing Harry a lopsided grin. “Glad to see you could make it.” 

Harry nodded. “Nice to see you. I hadn’t exactly planned on attending but, well… here we are.” He shrugged, gesturing around himself towards the tents and the arena. 

“Did you get the water, Ron?” The red haired boy’s father asked him, causing the young Weasley to raise the bucket he was holding. 

“We got it, dad.” The teenager responded as he began moving towards the tent, trying very hard to not look at Lucius Malfoy. Ron didn’t exactly know that Lucius Malfoy was to blame for everything with Tom Riddle’s Diary, but the boy had concluded that the diary appearing in his cauldron might have had something to do with Mr. Malfoy. Needless to say, Weasley was frightened by the man, but had no way to prove that he has reason to be. 

Mr. Malfoy didn’t even look at Ron, instead focusing on his son, patiently waiting for the boy to introduce his associates. 

“Father,” Draco began, showing towards Hermione, who happened to be standing the closest to him. “This is Hermione Granger, although she is still young, she has been called the most brilliant witch of her age many times.” She blinked at him, his words causing her cheeks to heat as she avoided his eyes. “And this is Neville Longbottom, who is most competent in the subject of herbology, and my Quidditch protégée.” Neville bowed his head in a nervous greeting. “And of course, Ronald Weasley, who you do of course know of as Mr. Weasley’s son.” He turned towards his friends, showing towards his parent. “Allow me to introduce my father, Lucius Malfoy, Patriarch of the Malfoy family, landowner and Ministry consultant on both Magical Artifacts as well as Magical Law, specifically in regards to education and Hogwarts business.” 

All the teenagers looked a little humbled and worried to be in the presence of someone like Mr. Malfoy, yet they all tried to be polite rather than appear frightened. They exchanged greetings with the man, who stood tall and proud before them. 

“I have heard of you all from my son, especially about you, Ms. Granger.” He looked at the young woman, who looked beyond bewildered to have been known by a man such as Mr. Malfoy. “My wife did speak highly of you as well, she seems to believe you to be most capable, considering your b-” the man halted himself, as he had been about to criticise Hermione’s blood status. Draco’s gaze turned cold as he stared at his father, silently evaluating his efforts to change, as he had claimed that he would. “...That you have been aware of the world of Magic for less than four years.” He concluded. 

His words caused the witch to smile at him, her shoulders were somewhat raised and her body language defensive, but she understood well how much the compliment meant coming from Lucius Malfoy. 

“Have you had lunch yet, Arthur?” The blonde wizard turned towards the fellow adult, his hair sweeping behind him as he focused on the other man. 

“...No, as a matter of fact, we were just about to.” The red haired man nodded towards the tent, which Mr. Malfoy opted to translate into an invitation. 

The blonde stepped forward, sweeping inside the small tent as if he owned it. Mr. Weasley looked insulted as he trailed after the other man. Harry and his friends looked at one another before slowly heading inside after them. The tent was very big from the outside, almost taking up the entirety of the two lots. Harry found it rather stuffy, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved that he was only visiting and not staying. In the middle of the room in which they found themselves, a table was set up, one big enough for at the very least six to eight people. Mr. Malfoy had selected the best chair, which was a scrappy little folding chair, upon which he had sat down, to the apparent irritation of Mr. Weasley. 

“I do not believe I allowed you to use that chair.” The red haired man grumbled under his breath. 

“Oh, should your guest sit on the floor, Arthur?” The man huffed as he reached inside his coat, pulling out an elegant watch which seemed to further accentuate how much money the Patriarch of the Malfoy family had. He glanced at it before placing it back inside his pocket. 

“No… But I’m not sure you can be called a guest when you just… do that thing where you take over the room by just being inside of it.” Mr. Weasley objected. 

“Ah yes. That rumored… thing.” The blonde man rolled his eyes at the other adult. 

Their discussion, or perhaps argument, called every Weasley to the big room. The twins were there, as was Ron’s only sister. The blonde man noticed that everyone had gathered, it appeared that it was exactly what he had been waiting for. 

“Well then, Arthur, to apologise for my intrusion, I have brought with me a gift.” The blonde man swept out with his arm in a theatrical gesture, there was a strange noise, as if the air was sucked out of place and then returned again, only this time, bringing with it House Elves. 

The House Elves appeared all around the tent, carrying with them plates of food, drinks, and various sweet pastries and desserts. Harry thought he recognised the new Malfoy House Elf among them. They placed the food on the table, but said table was quickly filled up, so they began placing the trays wherever there was space. The smell of the lavish breakfast or lunch quickly filled the tent, as the Weasleys and their guests stared at the display of wealth which was taking place all around them. One House Elf carefully placed a giant teapot in the middle of the table, before handing Mr. Weasley a cup, which he accepted with a look of utmost confusion. When every previously available inch of the tent seemed full of edible or drinkable items, the House Elves bowed to Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley before apparating away. 

“Is all of this…” 

“For all of us?” The Weasley twins finished each other’s sentences as they each eyed the same plate of sweets. 

“Why yes.” Mr. Malfoy moved some hair over his shoulder in an elegant gesture, making direct eye contact with the other adult with a triumphant look on his face. He had somehow managed to make the act of sharing food become a statement of wealth, secretly yet openly mocking the red haired man with the display of splendor and charity. “Myself, my son, and Lupin have yet to eat breakfast. I believed it to be… rude, to simply feed us. Thus I had my servants prepare a little something for your lot as well.” 

Left and Right Weasley were already munching on the cupcakes which they had deemed the most important to eat first. 

Draco avoided everyone’s eyes, seemingly embarrassed over his dad’s behavior, but being unable to classify it as rude or directly faulty. Harry gave him a small pat on the back, as the children tried to find spots to sit, seeing as all chairs but Mr. Malfoy’s had become tables for plates of food. 

Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville and Ron managed to cram themselves together in a corner. They gathered food on their plates and sat down to talk. The group was soon joined by Ginny Weasley, who managed to nestle herself into the group next to Neville and Draco. She seemed very satisfied with her position between the two of them. Left and Right Weasley brought their food with them to their corner of the tent, while Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley ended up stuck with only one another for company by the table. Draco would glance at them from time to time to make certain that his father was keeping his promise of acting dignified towards the Weasleys. When he had concluded that the man was indeed trying to be polite and not condescending to his host, Draco focused on the teenagers’ conversation instead. 

“The Burrow is absolutely amazing. It is the most cosy house I have ever been in. It has a lot of floors, a wonderful garden, and it always smells of newly made food. It just has this same feeling of homeliness as drinking butterbeer.” Hermione finished telling Harry about how much she was enjoying spending time with the Weasley family. 

Harry knew that she enjoyed spending time with him and his dad too, but it seemed that the homeliness of the Weasley household was more appealing to her than that of staying with the Lupins and their depressed dog. Harry didn’t mind, and neither did Neville, with whom Hermione had stayed with a lot as well. It seemed she wanted to be anywhere but home, none of them knew why, but they could all understand that she likely didn’t feel comfortable at home due to the distance from the world of magic. 

“Geeze…” Ron mumbled, seemingly embarrassed over someone liking his home so much. 

Ginny beamed at her. “The fields are the best part, there is so much space away from Muggles, so we can always practice Quidditch and fly as much as we want!” She grinned, looking up at both Draco and Neville. “You both better watch out this Quidditch season, I bet I’ll be really pumped up and ready to fly when we get back to school. After this game, I’ll be so inspired, I will be explosive on the field!” She promised. 

“There won’t be a Quidditch season this year at Hogwarts.” Neville gently reminded her with a kind voice. 

Her face dropped into a displeased frown. “Oh… Yeah… Bloody Tournament…” She sighed. “Damn it, Percy.” She added under her breath. 

“Percy?” Hermione questioned. “What does he have to do with the Quidditch games being cancelled?”

“Oh… uh, n-no, it’s just a joke!” Ginny waved her hands, her cheeks turning red. “He is working for the Ministry now, and he is all prissy about it, so we’ve just, I mean, Fred and George have this joke about everything being Percy’s fault and I just… I didn’t think about it when I…” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Ron finished a sandwich and placed his plate aside in favor of picking up his teacup. “He’s not here, but try and not say that to anyone, Percy would be hurt by it.” He didn’t look at anyone as he spoke. 

Harry felt a tingle of pride as the Gryffindor teenager proved to not engage in bullying of his brother. It seemed that Ron might have actually started getting over himself, not anymore bullying others for the sake of managing his own hurt. At least it was what Harry hoped to be the reason. 

“You sound like Bill…” The girl mumbled, seemingly trying to not pout but failed. 

“Was… Bill the second oldest or the oldest brother…?” Neville glanced at Ron. 

“Bill is the older one, he has somewhat shorter hair and an earring. Charlie is our second oldest brother, he has long, wild hair and a beard. Also a lot of scars and such, but I’m not sure if you saw those.” The red haired boy shrugged as he spoke. He didn’t so much appear dismissive, but he appeared to keep his sentences short and direct as to not make anyone bored of him. Harry guessed that Ron wasn’t exactly used to people listening to him, and therefore was somewhat clumsy when it came to conversation. 

“Scars?” Harry echoed. “Was he hurt?” He couldn’t help but feel concerned about the scarred man, seeing as his dad was often seen as a dangerous individual by strangers because of his scars. 

“Charlie is a dragon tamer.” Ron explained. “It sort of comes with the job. He and some of his work buddies have come back to the UK to work with the Trimagus Tournament, he isn’t allowed to say what they will be working with, but I guess it’s safe to say that it probably has to do with dragons or draconic creatures.” He sipped his tea, looking like he might have said too much. 

“Bill and Charlie didn’t have time to come to the game, so Neville and Hermione are using their tickets.” Ginny informed the group of what they already knew with a proud look on her face. 

She was about to say something more, but as she did, there was the sound which resembled that of a weak explosion from the Twins’ part of the tent. Everyone exchanged looks, glancing towards the curtains which separated the rooms in the tent. Mr. Weasley seemed comparatively relieved to have an excuse to leave the breakfast table and check on his children rather than having to continue playing polite with Mr. Malfoy. The blonde man looked after the red haired man with a look of pure distaste, before he continued to sip his own tea. 

“Was that… was that an explosion?” Harry turned to the Weasleys, looking bewildered. 

“Yeah… that kind of happens a lot…” Neville spoke first, rubbing his neck as he was speaking. “We’ve been staying with the Weasleys for about two days, and… well, I’ve almost gotten used to it.” 

“They seem to be making something, they are experimenting with it and have been for ages. It’s no so often that things explode, but it has happened before. It’s just happening a lot lately.” Ginny summarised. 

“Mom is really worried about them, there was this big meeting about it.” Ron continued. “They are saying that they want to make… joke things. Like Zonko’s Joke Shop stuff, but better. But they are struggling with the actual creation of things. Mom forbade them to experiment in the house… Guess they found a loophole in the tent…” He seemed to realise the loophole as he was speaking. 

Mr. Weasley exited the other part of the tent, bringing with him something gooey and pink, which he had evidently confiscated from the Twins. Mr. Malfoy decided that he had enough of the Weasleys’ hospitality and rose to his feet. 

“I believe it is time for us to leave you, Arthur.” He looked upon the thing in the red haired man’s hand, scrunching his nose as he did. “My servants will come over to pick the silverware up during the game, so you may have at the food that is left until then.” He nodded towards Draco and Harry, who both got to their feet and joined him. 

Mr. Malfoy was about to leave, but he was stopped by a subtle cough from his son. The cough made him turn towards his host once again, before forcing a polite smile which resembled the grin of a feline more than it did a human smile. “Thank you most kindly for your hospitality. I do hope I was not overstepping my boundaries in bringing with me so much food for you and your family and your guests.” 

Mr. Weasley forced a grin back, his resembling that of a canine which was commanded to smile by an overly enthusiastic owner, and only did smile because of the treats involved. “It was my pleasure to host you in this little tent here which is my no means your usual standard of living, or existing. The food was lovely, as was your company…” 

Both men looked like they were about to be physically ill from having to fake their emotions like this. They grinned at one another for a few more seconds, before Mr. Malfoy turned to leave, followed by his son and Harry. Harry couldn’t think of any other way to describe his best friend’s expression than smug. At the very least, Draco was satisfied with the events which had unfolded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Professional Quidditch**  
>  Many, many more people have previously pointed out the many holes within the game called Quidditch, which are so extensive that it's hard to justify it as playable. It has been a struggle to work with Quidditch and make a playable game, without changing it to an extent where the core concepts disappear. 
> 
> The Game of Seekers, as Draco explains, is psychological warfare because if all the Snitches are caught, the team might start to relax, and it has lead to unexpected losses in the past, but not immediately catching the Snitches would also lead to the risk of the other Seeker getting them instead. 
> 
> It is also noteworthy that in a four dimensional game at such fast pace, it is far easier to score than it is to prevent scoring, so the points usually ramp up very quickly. Even if the Snitch would have been worth as many points as in canon Quidditch, it would not end the game or be a guarantee to winning at all times.
> 
> There will be more notes on Quidditch in future chapters, and more explanations back and forth both on professional level and Hogwarts level.
> 
> **Important: There are no such concepts in our lore where the fans or outsiders interrupting the game or casting spells leads to punishing the player team. We have no idea how Rowling considered this to be sensible, reflective of sports, or even a working concept. Anyone could pretend to be a fan of the opposite team and ruin their chances with that as a rule. Thus, the game is fair and there are no outsider influences; a person casting a spell to interrupt the game would be ported from the game, and the game would resume again.**
> 
>  **Portkeys**  
>  The idea that making a Portkey an inconspicuous Muggle object and thus no Muggles will feel the need to interact with the item is truly a faulty concept. When we were children, if we found a broken cane, or a strange boot, out in the woods, we would **most definitely** touch it. Most people, especially children, do get urges to touch strange items. 
> 
> Thus, Portkeys are now made to blend in with their environment and be a bit out of reach, thus it's only possible to locate them with tracking magic, making it far safer and out of reach of Muggles. 
> 
> **The Weasley tent**  
>  As we have set a limit to breakage of time-space in the act of teleportation, there are no pocket dimensions, and thus the tent is simply a large enough tent, almost like a party tent, allowing for the family to stay. Setting up large tents and items with magic isn't too difficult. 
> 
> **Security and concealment**  
>  As the Muggle world has developed more and more advanced surveillance over the years, mage society has had to adapt to it. The Concealment Charm is useful in many senses where they can conceal areas of events such as the World Cup. This prevents and protects from satellite surveillance catching them, or anyone spotting the event from afar. It also prevents unknowing Muggles from wandering into the area, as the Concealment Charm would turn them around again, the same way it was explained in the third story of our series. This also makes it so that it's almost impossible to sneak into a game without a ticket, for mages. 
> 
> **Malfoy's hired House Elves**  
>  There are companies within the mage society which offer services in form of renting out House Elves for shorter periods of time, events and such. It gives for easy access and better control of the House Elves in question, at least from a mage perspective of efficiency, ignoring the comfort and rights of said elves.


	3. Chapter 2 - In which Harry Lupin once again attends a Quidditch game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Speaking of boys, is young Mr. Malfoy bringing his boyfriend to the game?” Mrs. Zabini turned to smile at Harry and Draco, winking at them with a cheeky grin playing on her lips. 
> 
> Draco and Harry looked at one another, both of them opening their mouths at the same time before turning red and turning away from one another.

Mr. Malfoy brought the two teenagers with him to the stadium, where they climbed higher and higher on the stands, reaching the Ministry of Magic’s own box.

It was located high up, with an excellent view of the arena. It was easy to tell by just looking at the way the box had been built compared to the rest of the stands, that it was meant for finer people. The seats were stuffed and with backrests, they reminded Harry of seats at the opera, not that he had ever been to the opera, but he knew what splendor was expected at such a place. Harry recognised a few faces on the people in the box, namely the Minister of Magic himself, and a few other Ministers who he had seen in the newspaper. However, Harry’s attention was drawn towards a lonely House Elf who sat forgotten in the back of the box. Most people seemed to be mingling for the moment, with only the servant not moving or speaking to anyone. Harry couldn’t help but look at the little creature as the box attendant looked over Mr. Malfoy’s tickets before letting them inside. 

“Lucius, good to see you, good to see you.” The English Minister of Magic called the man to him as he noticed the Malfoys and Harry, waving a small, careful gesture at the children as well. “Allow me to introduce you to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, this is… Mr… Oblansk…” Fudge seemed to be struggling with pronouncing the man’s name. “He doesn’t speak English very well. This here is Lucius Malfoy!” He turned to speak to the Minister, gesturing towards the blonde man, he made some more strange gestures as he tried to communicate. However, all his gestures managed to do was make it seem like Mr. Malfoy had money, as Fudge failed to communicate anything but the fact that the Malfoys were rich. 

Mr. Oblansk nodded and shook hands with Mr. Malfoy, exchanging a greeting with a heavy accent. One which Mr. Malfoy returned politely, speaking in a completely normal tone compared to Fudge, who had adapted the speech pattern of talking to a child in his desperate attempts to make himself understood by the foreign Minister. Harry felt embarrassed about the Minister of Magic’s behavior, but he couldn’t exactly say anything, and wasn't too sure why he felt personally embarrassed.

“Excuse me, dear Minister. Perhaps I can be of service in this little predicament of yours?” A soft, smooth voice entered into the conversation. The voice was so very pleasant to the ear that everyone who heard it seemed to lose track of where they were or what they were doing, before turning to the source of the alluring sound. 

The source proved to be a woman, one who was so very beautiful that she didn’t seem real. Her skin was dark, standing in beautiful contrast to her bright eyes and golden jewelry. Her hair was cut millimeter short, revealing a small head with a long neck which looked like it had been sculpted with the intention to have it bear expensive necklaces. Her lips were full, and upon them danced a playful smile, which somehow seemed to enhance everything about her even further. She was dressed in expensive looking golden clothes, her robes by no means clinging to her, but neither attempted to hide what she was and the assets she possessed. 

“Ms. Zabini.” Mr. Malfoy greeted her. He was seemingly the only person in the company to not have been utterly stunned by her appearance. As he spoke her name, Harry realised with a startle that this was Blaise’s mother. He looked to the side to see if her son was with her.

He located him a little away, where he was speaking to a man who was likely not his father, as they had no features in common. The man with Blaise seemed to be glancing after Blaise’s mother, which lead Harry to the conclusion that the man was likely Ms. Zabini’s current partner. Harry’s assumption proved right when the woman answered Mr. Malfoy. 

“Mrs. Zabini, Lucius. How’s the wife, is she doing well? I haven’t seen her for ages.” The woman laughed, waving her hand as she did. Her laughter was so pleasant that it made Harry shudder. 

“She’s doing well, thank you. How is your current husband doing?” Mr. Malfoy wasn’t exactly challenging her, but there was a tension between them, one which Harry wasn’t certain was either hostile or competitive, or something entirely else. 

“Oh he could not be better. So very excited for the game, as most boys are.” She chuckled again, turning her face towards the Bulgarian Minister of Magic as she spoke, blinking her long, dark lashes towards him. The man swallowed. “Speaking of boys, is young Mr. Malfoy bringing his boyfriend to the game?” She instead turned to smile at Harry and Draco, winking at them with a cheeky grin playing on her lips. 

Draco and Harry looked at one another, both of them opening their mouths at the same time before turning red and turning away from one another. Harry had never before thought of Draco like that, not that he could remember at least, and having the suggestion pushed upon them by an adult made him very uncertain of how to act. He wasn't uncomfortable but very taken aback by the suggestion. Before any of them could answer her, she had turned towards the Bulgarian Minister of Magic instead, and was now speaking to him in Bulgarian. From what anyone English could tell, she sounded native as she spoke. 

“Draco, Lupin, you may go speak to your friend.” Mr. Malfoy noted before turning towards Fudge, who was staring at Mrs. Zabini with a transfixed look. “Minister? I was wondering if I may steal some of your time and discuss the upcoming Trimagus Tournament with you? I have a few simple questions in terms of the exchange student program; I may no longer be part of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, but I do have my merits, which is why I’d feel inclined to discuss it with you, should you allow me?” 

“Yes… Yes of course, Lucius…!” The Minister of Magic pried his eyes from the beautiful woman and focused on the blonde wizard instead. “Have you had any wine yet? It’s a Bulgarian one that they are serving. Very tasty.” 

Harry and Draco separated from the group of adults and moved towards Blaise and the young, handsome man who was apparently the current Mr. Zabini. Blaise looked as handsome as ever, the similarities to his mother were very clear now that Harry had met her, but Harry had to admit to himself that Blaise was more appealing to him than the older woman. However, he wasn’t quite as appealing as Draco who… did people really think that the two of them were boyfriends? That was a little weird, wasn’t it? Sure, they were around each other a lot and they got along really well but… dating? Draco was very handsome and all, and he had a really great smile but that didn’t mean anything other than that his friend was subjectively handsome, right? Harry bit down on his lower lip and chased the somewhat messy thoughts from his mind. It wouldn’t do to overthink just because he had become nervous about what someone else might think of him and his friend. At the very least, it was relieving to know that he didn't feel as bad as he had previous years when being accused of being in love with his friends, it just didn't seem as important, just a little odd.

“Hello, how nice to see the two of you here. I’m glad I’m not the only non sports fan to attend this game today.” Blaise's voice was smooth as well as he smiled at them, his voice hadn’t changed much since they last heard it, and he appeared equally mature as he always had. His expression turned a little pained when he locked eyes with Harry. “I’m… very sorry about what you’ve had to go through since the incident last term. This summer must have been rough, are you doing alright, Harry?” 

Harry had expected to be uncomfortable with Blaise, seeing as the other teenager had once again distanced himself from Harry upon the reveal of his dad’s condition. It was tiering to have the teenager leave so easily, and then come back when things had settled down. It made it hard to feel like he truly had a relationship with the other Slytherin student, and wasn’t just being used as a distraction when it fit Blaise. Then again, he couldn’t really blame the other for his actions. If he had the option to just turn away and allow himself to be impartial towards anything but his own well being and mental health, Harry might have found himself doing the same thing as Blaise was. It wasn’t inherently selfish to think of oneself, but it was selfish to demand that everyone around always adhered to someone else’s needs before their own. Blaise wasn’t doing anything morally bad or even questionable, but that didn’t mean that his behavior wasn’t tiring to someone who valued friendship and his bond to others. Harry had decided that Blaise was just a distant sort of person in his friend circle, somebody with whom he could talk and have fun with, but not someone he trusted to be an actual friend to rely on when matters turned grim. It felt like a good decision, as he could neither force someone to be his friend, nor could Blaise expect Harry to not feel anything regarding the repeated act of rejection, if they forced themselves to be close with one another. 

“I’m doing fine. The World Cup sort of overshadowed everything else, so that is rather relieving.” Harry smiled at him, while Draco seemed to find the other teenager’s words somewhat insincere, judging by his expression. 

The man next to Blaise spoke up, introduced himself as Mr. Zabini, and proceeded to ask if Draco and Harry were both Malfoys. He seemed to not be from the UK, as his accent was heavy and he seemed generally lost in the crowd of English and Bulgarian high standing members of society. 

“I’m the only child of the Malfoy family.” Draco politely explained, seemingly unbothered by the idea of Harry being his brother. “Harry Lupin here is invited as our family’s guest.”

Harry was a little bothered by the idea. He knew well that it was common for mage families to engage in polygamy, especially the Pureblood families, who struggled to find suitable marriage candidates but still wanted heirs of pure blood. As the English mage society wasn’t very big, it wasn’t strange that polyamorous relationships would be established between those who sought to find partners capable of wielding magic, rather than look to the Muggle world for love. It was not strange or insulting to think that Harry could have been a Malfoy, as it by no means meant that either adult Malfoy was suspected of unfaithfulness or adultery, but simply assumed that the family sought more pure blooded heirs from other bloodlines, as to not overcrowd the next generations with only the same blood. 

No, the reason as to why felt strange was because he had just realised that he could, in fact, be perceived as Draco’s partner, and to now be perceived as his brother made for a very strange clash of images. Not to mention that anyone who looked at Harry and Draco could tell that they had very different clothing styles, which would make it seem like Mr. Malfoy was dressing one of his sons like himself, and the other in the equivalent of rags. Needless to say, the idea that someone would suspect that Mr. Malfoy would display open favoritism among his own children made Harry feel uncomfortable for the sake of what kind of person that would make the man. 

“Nice to meet you.” Harry mumbled, trying to be polite while wrestling with his confused emotions. 

Luckily for him, there was some ruckus by the entrance to the box, which stole the attention away from him. Blaise’s current father turned away, looking over towards the man who was arguing with the boxkeeper in Bulgarian. Mr. Oblansk noticed and came over to assist, soon enough allowing the man to enter alongside him. Said man was tall and had generally dark hair, a dark goatee and dark eyebrows, all of which were slightly stained with specks of silver, as age stole the darkness of his hair from him. His eyes were cold and aware, Harry got the impression that the man knew everyone’s location in the box, and kept a sharp eye on all of them at once. He was dressed in sleek, silver furs and general clothes which seemed too warm for British summers, although the man himself was seemingly unbothered. 

The man who had been introduced as Minister Crouch earlier that day had appeared sometime between Harry and Draco entering the box and the man in silver furs had entered. He now stood up from where he was seated, walking over to the Bulgarian Minister and the loud man. “What is the ruckus about now, Karkaroff?” Crouch demanded to know, staring at the tall man as if he was disgusted by him.

The wizard by the name of Karkaroff seemed to shrink together slightly, looking away from the man as if the Minister’s aura burnt him. 

To everyone but Mrs. Zabini’s surprise, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic spoke up in perfect English. “It seems that the boxkeeper has not been notified that Igor would not need to show his ticket, as he is the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute and Victor Krum’s personal guest. This is quite the failure on part of the British Ministry, as I doubt anyone would have questioned the attendance of Albus Dumbledore in this box.” He may have an accent, but it didn’t stop his sentence structure from being coherent. 

Fudge nearly choked on his own tongue. “You speak English? But here I’ve… I’ve…” He seemed to realise that he had been making a fool out of himself with his gesture game, and quickly quieted down, his expression like that of a tricked dog. 

“It seems the Minister is a little bit of a trickster.” Mrs. Zabini chuckled to herself as she looked at the foreign Minister. 

“How well to see you attend, Igor.” Mr. Malfoy greeted him, which earned him a displeased look from the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute. 

“Lucius, you fox.” The man slowly nodded at him. “Enjoying wealth and fortune, yes? I read that you were kicked off the Hogwarts Board of Governors a few years back, I trust I won’t be seeing you during the Trimagus Tournament.” The Headmaster went straight to wounding with his words, the statements barely hidden beneath a thin layer of pretend politeness which nobody took for anything but a masked insult. 

Mr. Malfoy’s gaze shifted to Minister Crouch, who stared at both of the men with a displeased and stern expression on his face. The blonde turned his attention back to the Headmaster. “Perhaps I will buy a ticket for one of the events and come visit Hogwarts like any other civilian,” he responded before turning back to the English Minister of Magic, continuing their conversation as if it hadn’t been interrupted. Minister Crouch glanced at Karkaroff before returning to his seat, turning around to address his House Elf. Karkaroff, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and Mrs. Zabini continued to have a conversation in Bulgarian while Mr. Zabini wandered off to speak with someone he seemingly recognised who had just entered the Minister’s box. 

“...I get the feeling that Mr. Crouch doesn’t like your father, or the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute…” Harry whispered to Draco and Blaise. 

The two of them exchanged looks, before Draco answered Harry while reaching out to play with his cufflinks. He was not wearing his favorite snake ones, as he had explained to Harry that they were too valuable to him to risk losing them at an event such as the Quidditch World Cup, where they likely would never be found again. Harry had been happy and humbled by the expression of how much the cheap cufflinks meant to his best friend. 

“Due to my family’s belief in purity of blood,” Draco began whispering, making sure that only Harry and Blaise could hear him. “Many believed that they were supporters of you-know-who. No matter what accusations they tried to force upon my family, they were all proven to be false or unsubstantial. Back then, Crouch was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he was famous for his cruel methods. He was ruthless and brutal to the point where some likened his behavior towards that of the Death Eaters he condemned. He has always been hostile towards my father, because he believes that he got away, or something like that.” The blonde wizard was speaking the way he was since Blaise was there, avoiding stating the facts which he and Harry knew to be true about Lucius Malfoy in such a public place. 

Harry could tell that it hurt Draco to speak of the accusations towards his family, even now that his father and mother had made an effort for his sake to be at least better than in the past, for the sake of their son. The blonde wizard seemed tired and uncomfortable, his expression reminding Harry of his own dad’s, and just how much accusations alone could hurt and tire a person out. He reached out to give Draco’s hand a squeeze, earning him a thankful smile from his best friend. 

“Minister Crouch’s son was accused of being a Death Eater, he was ruthless during the trial, condemning his own child to Azkaban.” Blaise whispered, trying hard not to glance in the man’s direction. “Many believe that if he had actually continued as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the British mage community would look very different. I’m not sure if you read about it, Harry, but when Black escaped, many pointed to Minister Crouch as the solution to the problem. They tried to get him reinstated, but he denied the post in favor of his current one. Nobody knows why.” 

“No, I wasn’t following the politicalness around that escape, just where he had been sighted and so on.” Harry gave his associate a strained smile, imagining the peaceful scruffy dog Snuffles as he curled together in front of the fireplace. A free dog, although not a free man. “I’m just glad all that is over with.” 

“The Durmstrang Headmaster is actually a convicted former Death Eater.” Draco whispered in an even smaller voice. “However, he was released because he provided information which led to the capture of some notorious Death Eaters, including the Lestrages and… well… Crouch Jr. He’s seen as a hero throughout most of Britain, someone who may have been wrong, but changed his ways and helped save lives in providing assistance against you-know-whose army. The danger in going against the rest of the Death Eaters, even after the fall of the Dark Lord is by no means small.” 

Harry was about to ask something more, but his words were overpowered by a loud whistle which effectively quieted the stadium down. Somewhere to their right, the commentator of the game had taken his place at the front of the box. It seemed that the Top Box didn’t really have assigned seats, as everyone in it seemed to sit down in any available seat. Although nobody approached the seat next to Minister Crouch, leaving the chair by his side empty, while the House Elf was standing behind it, seemingly planning on peeking at the game through the seats. Harry couldn’t help but think that it would have been far more humane to offer the Elf the free seat, rather than just having her remain behind her owner. 

The game was starting, judging by how tight Draco grabbed his hand next to him, as excitement got to his muscles as well. Harry turned to look towards the arena itself as well, awaiting the players. He hoped that wherever the Weasleys and their guests were, they were having a great time watching the game. If he got bored during said game, he decided that he would see if he could find them somewhere in the sea of people. 

“Mages of all ages and countries, it is my great honor and exciting pleasure to welcome you to the 1994 Quidditch World Cup finals, featuring a game between Ireland and Bulgaria!” The commentator’s voice boomed over the stadium, earning cheers and screaming from every stand. Nobody in the Top Box made much of a fuss, but some did applaud politely as the commenter spoke. “This World Cup final is being sponsored by Butterbeer CO, Welsh Pumpkin Juice Incorporated, Gringotts Magus Bank, and the Nimbus 2001 edition brooms, brought to us by Nimbus Racing Broom Company.” He rambled through the sponsors and then raised his wand. “I give you now… the players of the Irish team!” 

From somewhere below, fliers appeared on their brooms, clad in green and with silver details on their clothing. From the end of their brooms flowed green and silvery smoke, reminding Harry of the Slytherin House colors more than it did remind him of the Irish flag. The team flew in a synchronized arc, with their colored tails remaining in the air before it quivered, becoming a rainbow. The rainbow hung in the air, then broke out into colorful fireworks which made Harry cover his eyes as the stadium screamed with excitement. 

“And now, their opponents, the Bulgarian team!” The commentator screamed, as did the stadium as the team flew from whatever place they had been, deep below by the ground. 

This team appeared much like the Irish one, only their tails were scarlet red and black, their coloring somehow being far more aggressive than the softer green of the Irish team. One flier moved away from the group, speeding in front of them as he spun the broom, effortlessly putting on stunt after stunt to the wild crowd. Somewhere behind the three teenagers, the Durmstrang Headmaster spoke the name Victor Krum, and he was congratulated for having such a noteworthy student. The short exchange of praise reminded Harry about the way British mages often praised one another for their Hogwarts Houses, while there was no actual effort on anyone’s part to belong to a House. The Headmaster’s given praise for the achievements of his student sounded equally false to Harry as that kind of House biased praising. 

The Bulgarian team flew high in the air, their smoke suddenly turning into fire, rising upwards like the breath of a dragon, rising higher and higher until the players flew to the side, leaving Krum floating in the center of the fire trails, as if he was floating on top of a fountain of fire. The crowd cheered and screamed, Harry wondered how many screamed for the team, and how many screamed for Krum. Nonetheless, the noise was making Harry’s head throb, so he covered his ears, although the show didn’t demand that he closed his eyes from the flashing lights. 

“Stunning! The crowd is ever so electric this evening, the teams are ready for the game to begin, this is Luco Bagman, and I am ready for the 1994 Quidditch World Cup! By the count of three, the Golden Snitches will be released, and the Quaffler will rise! Count with me, Quidditch fans! One… Two…!” 

The stadium screamed with him as the players hovered up to face one another, with the two Seekers hovering behind the other teams and a little below them. 

“Three!” Bagman and the stadium screamed, as the Quaffler was thrown up in the air. Both Seekers looked around, with the Irish one pulling herself away from the battle for the Quaffler, while Krum chased after a golden flash which only he had seen. 

It didn’t take long for the teams to begin scoring points, with Krum managing to catch a Golden Snitch within the first five minutes. For at least a while, Harry found the game to be the most entertaining Quidditch game he had ever seen, but the novelty quickly wore off. Draco was deep into the game, cheering and supporting Ireland while not allowing himself to be too excited, due to how it would affect his personal image. It was somewhat amusing to watch the blonde wizard struggle with keeping his inner Quidditch fan down for the sake of his public face. Harry wished that he would have been allowed to cheer for his team however he wanted, but he also understood that it wasn’t acceptable for a Malfoy to become one of the screaming masses. 

Harry looked around to find that at least some people were bored of the game as well, as conversation had begun to take place around him in the Top Box, with the commentator still yelling into his microphone, undisturbed by the subtle conversations happening a few feet away from him. Blaise's mother was speaking to the Bulgarian Minister, and Crouch was staring into the wall next to him, seemingly finding the game very boring. Mr. Malfoy and the Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute were both displeased with being next to one another, but didn’t seem entirely hostile towards the other. 

Harry turned to Blaise, who seemed equally bored as he was to be watching a game about madmages on broomsticks. “How come you are here watching a Quidditch game? I didn’t think you cared about sports,” Harry finally asked.

Blaise chuckled, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, casually continuing to observe the game as he spoke. “Mother’s husband learnt that she would be working during this game as an official translator, and he decided to get us tickets as well. Us being me and him, as every young mage clearly likes watching Quidditch.” Blaise rolled his eyes, his commentary causing Harry to chuckle slightly. “Now he seems pouty that mother has to work, which is the very reason she is here. I would introduce you to my mother, but she is rather busy right now. She is a scholar, knowledgeable in five different languages and works as a translator for a lot of Ministry business. She is a close friend of many important people etc, etc… I’m rather sure you understand where this introduction is going.” 

Harry nodded. “She seems to be a very impressive person. I believed the Ministry mostly used translation spells, rather than people?” He questioned, hoping that he wasn’t being rude in asking. 

“Translation spells are very flimsy in the first place. They are only capable of translating words, not syntax, sentence structure, or tense. It becomes messy very fast, especially in business or political context. A translator is far more reliable than any spell which currently exists.” 

Next to them, Draco cheered alongside the rest of the stadium as Krum and the Irish Seeker caught one Snitch each, at almost the exact same time, while the Bulgarian team scored another ten points. 

“Say, Harry?” Blaise began, approaching whatever he wanted to speak about more carefully than Harry could remember him approaching anything. 

“Yes?” The son of a werewolf looked at his associate, waiting for him to continue. 

“...Would you tell your father that he was a great teacher, and that he will be missed at Hogwarts? Whoever comes next has some big shoes to fill.” Blaise gave Harry a weak, surprisingly honest smile. 

Harry stared at the other teenager before a grin spread over his lips, lighting up his face. “I’ll tell him. Thanks, I’m sure he will appreciate hearing it.” He felt a lot better knowing that Blaise wasn’t opposite to Remus, but had likely pulled back because he didn’t want to be involved in the situation at all. 

Blaise smiled back, before returning his gaze to the Quidditch game. Harry did the same. The two of them soon began to chat once more about books they had read during the summer, talking back and forth as the game continued. 

The 1994 Quidditch World Cup pulled to a close, signalled by a loud whistle which caused Harry to have to cover his ears to escape from the noise. He was happy that he had, as the stadium quickly filled with screaming and cheering when it was revealed that Bulgaria had won. Krum had dominated the Game of Seekers, catching a staggering eight out of ten Golden Snitches, which was absolutely shocking to the history of Quidditch, or at least so Bagman yelled. The battle had been tense and while no team had been quite able to pull away from the other in terms of point gap, Bulgaria had finally won. 

The two teams were gathering in the Top Box, where the seats had been pulled back and left everyone standing as the sweaty, dirty team members gathered in the box. More than a few of them had gotten a bit bruised up by the game, which Harry found rather worrying but which nobody else seemed to even note. Karkaroff moved over to his student to wipe his face clean before allowing him to turn towards the two Ministers of Magic, who ceremoniously presented the Bulgarian team the Quidditch World Cup, much to the delight of at least half the stadium. 

Harry was rather tired at that point, with a variety of sound, noise and lights draining his energy until the point where he was rather ready to go back to Malfoy Manor and fall asleep in Draco’s fluffy bed. He tried to pay attention to the ceremony, but he was more than a little happy when Bagman explained everything to be over. The players were congratulated by the Ministers in the box, and Karkaroff beamed from the attention his student was being given. 

The box was cleared out of players, who all seemed eager to get out of their uniforms and either start celebrating or take a nap. Krum glanced towards the three teenagers when he passed them, raising his hand in a polite greeting. All of them smiled at him and waved back. It wasn’t much more than simply acknowledging the young, possible future athletes on Krum’s part, but Draco’s fellow Slytherin students could tell how happy it made the blonde teenager to have been at the very least seen. It wasn’t going to get to his head, Harry knew his friend far better than to assume that, it was simply a nice gesture from Krum which the Quidditch fan happened to enjoy. 

“Well then… I suppose I will be paying for your drinks tonight, Mr. Minister.” Fudge spoke to the Bulgarian Minister as the two of them, as well as Zabini’s mother walked towards the exit to the top box. 

“As agreed.” The man looked ahead, seemingly in a very good mood as his team had brought home victory that evening. 

“Blaise, dear, I will be joining the Ministers and Mr. Karkaroff for celebratory drinks. You go home with Charles and I will see you tomorrow.” Zabini’s mother stopped quickly to give him a kiss on the head before hurrying after the three men. 

“Of course. I will see you two in school.” Blaise waved his mother off before standing, bid his schoolmates goodbye, and walked over to his current father. 

Harry and Draco watched him go, waving after him before turning towards Mr. Malfoy, who approached them now that most important adults had left. Only Mr. Crouch was left, and he seemed intent on remaining until the end. Harry wondered if it was normal for the man to simply sit and stare like he did, but he wasn’t about to question it, as the man’s wrath frightened him. He’d much rather ask his dad about more information about Crouch later, somewhere where the man would never know about it. 

“You have not lost anything?” Mr. Malfoy questioned as he looked over the two of them, then adjusted his son’s lapel just for good measure. 

Both boys checked their pockets, Harry opened his jacket to reach inside his inner pocket, checking to make sure that his wand was still there. It was safe and secure in his inside its assigned pocket, so he closed his jacket once more, as Draco confirmed that he had both his wand and jewelry. 

They were given the same instructions as before, both of them grabbing onto the man and one another before Mr. Malfoy touched the Portkey with his bare hand. The travelling was just as uncomfortable as the first time, but Harry was at the very least prepared this time, which probably helped. They appeared inside the forest from which they had set of from, but instead of waiting for the carriage to come pick them up, Mr. Malfoy apparated them back to the mansion.   
  


The combined travelling methods caused both the teenagers to feel rather ill, thus, they were excused from dinner and instead provided with food in Draco’s room, much to both their excitement. They were forbidden from eating in the bed, and a table was instead arranged for them to eat by. Harry was thankful for Malfoy Manors distance to everything, enjoying the overall silence, where the only sounds came from his friend speaking about the legendary Quidditch World Cup which they had the fortune to witness. Harry listened and ate his dinner, but he didn’t really feel like he contributed in any way to the conversation. 

Draco was still speaking as they got dressed for bed, Harry was only able to hear every second word by the time he slid down under the covers. Something touched his foot, and thus, he hooked his toes around it and pulled out his missing sock, blinking at it. He decided to throw it down at the floor, hoping to avoid Draco noticing that he had only been wearing one sock the entire day. 

Harry fell asleep next to his best friend that night, thinking that it was rather nice to know that he could attend a Quidditch game without the world ending. The last thing he remembered was Draco speaking about how this day would go down in history. 

He wasn’t wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Sponsors**  
>  Beside the Nimbus Racing Broom Company and the slightly altered Gringotts Bank, the corporation names are made up. We could not find anything suggesting companies behind the other products of Butterbeer and Pumpkin Juice. 
> 
> Without specifying companies or breweries, saying that a tournament is sponsored by the beverages is more or less the equivalent of saying 'this tournament is sponsored by milk' unspecified. From evidence of how these beverages are handled in different parts of the series, they are seemingly not trade marked like, say, Coca Cola.
> 
> Further, suggesting the Nimbus 2001 to sponsor an event without backing it up with the company is also a strange suggestion, making it seem like the product itself has sponsored the event on its own volition. 
> 
> Long story short, we had to add made up corporations and trade marks to make sense out of the game sponsors. 
> 
> **Blaise's Mother**  
>  As a note which might be of interest, we've personally imagined Mrs. Zabini's appearance to be inspired by the actress and author Lupita Nyong'o. It felt important to us to write a fully fledged character who is more than that of a seeming man-eater. An unusually conventionally attractive woman isn't automatically vicious and evil, netiher should she have to be a saint. 
> 
> **Watching Professional Quidditch**  
>  With the Beaters doing their thing, while the rest of the players doing their thing, and the Game of Seekers is going on, Quidditch technically becomes three different games played in one. This at a fast pace, over a huge field. There are height limits of the games in this lore, and area limits, but the areas and stretches upwards are still huge. 
> 
> This means that trying to follow close ups of this game will be a little too fast and messy to comprehend for most. It makes more sense to watch the small dots do their thing, as it might give a shamble of sense when everything is happening at once, everywhere and very fast.


	4. Chapter 3 - In which Ginny Weasley gets a new haircut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dad,” Harry spoke up, raising his head so that he was looking at the tall man. “Our friends were there, at the camping site. Would you please take us, uh, I mean me, to the Burrow?” It had become so natural to speak for himself and Draco that he accidentally included Draco into his request without thinking. “I need to know that they are all safe.”
> 
> Before Remus could answer, Draco spoke up as well. “I would like to come as well” he stated, before looking to his mother for approval. 

The day seemed to be a day like any other when the two of them woke up, got dressed, and headed downstairs to attend breakfast, after which Remus would come pick Harry up. Neither Harry, nor Draco expected anything different about this day, but when they reached the dining room and found only Narcissa Malfoy, and then noticed she wasn’t seated, both of the boys knew that something was wrong. 

“Draco… I…” She trailed off, looking around as if something around her could help her voice the words which she didn’t know how to arrange into a coherent sentence. “Your father had to go to the Ministry… I… there…” In her hand, she held a copy of the newspaper for that day, although she was keeping the front page away from them, hidden against her skirt. She tried yet again to find words, but she finally surrendered and handed the two of them the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , trying hard to keep her face a mask of sternness in a futile attempt to appear collected. 

Harry felt his heart sink as he looked upon the newspaper in Draco’s hand, feeling how it became harder to breathe with every word he read. His mind circled around a single thought, a single thing which he managed to formulate in his head: this isn’t happening. 

> ### SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP
> 
> **The Dark Mark poisons British skies once again in the aftermath of a riot which took place last night at the campsite of the Quidditch World Cup; St. Mungos fills with wounded mages!**
> 
> Yesterday, Bulgaria won the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, gaining notoriety in Victor Krum’s outstanding victory in the Game of Seekers. The British mages may not have been celebrating the victory of their country, but the celebrations were lively and happy. It seemed as if the festivities were going to continue all night, when the scene of celebrations turned into a nightmare of terror.
> 
> Figures dressed in similar attire to that of followers of He-who-must-not-be-mentioned appeared to begin a flame based assault on the camping sites located the furthest away from the Quidditch World Cup stadium. The fire quickly spread as the mages advanced on the terrified participants of the Cup celebrations, the dry grass catching on fire as well, further adding to the inferno. None has been reported dead, although St. Mungos Hospital is currently reporting some cases of highly damaged mages who might not make it through another night. Many have been helped to the hospital to be treated for burns and smoke damage. 
> 
> As the security team and the present Ministry workers and Aurors rushed to get the fire under control, the assault continued by the terrorists, who are not confirmed to be Death Eaters, but suspected of possible connections to He-who-must-not-be-mentioned. Nobody at the Ministry of Magic could be reached for an interview or comment, but as the situation currently stands, the attackers will be referred to as terrorists. 
> 
> However, that was not the end of the terrors of the previous night, in the middle of the riot, as the terrorists were chased towards the woods, the Dark Mark appeared on the sky. The terrorists fled, or perhaps left in victory, leaving only the fire and the Dark Mark behind. The forest is currently being searched for any bodies, but so far, none has been discovered. Neither has the caster of the spell, although an abandoned wand was located and tested positive as the wand which cast the spell. The owner of the wand is being investigated by the Ministry, but it is unclear if the perpetrator is truly the owner of the wand or if the wand was stolen from them. 
> 
> As it currently stands, there are far more questions in regards to the riot than there are answers. 
> 
> The British Ministry of Magic is facing heavy criticism for allowing these events to transpire during such an important exchange of comradery and border-overlapping exchange of culture. The riot has brought about many questions about security. The damages which will be sought by those who lost property in the fire, and those who were damaged by it, will likely cost the British Ministry of Magic thousands of galleons. Worried mages are now turning towards the cultural exchange between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, questioning if the Ministry will be able to provide the ample security for the minor centered Trimagus Tournament. More on pages 4-6. 

On the front page was a photo of the Dark Mark, the green snake was almost lazily moving over the dark clouds, sleepily dancing from the open mouth of the human skull where it had seemingly nested. Harry couldn’t help but get the uncomfortable feeling that the snake knew and revelled in being watched, knowing fully well how terrifying it appeared to all who raised their heads to observe it. 

Harry had only seen the Dark Mark once, and that was during the Boggart lesson last year, when Draco faced his worst fear. He found himself chewing on his lower lip as he nervously glanced towards his friend while he tried to figure out the best approach to ask Draco if he was alright. There was probably a lot of things which he could or should have focused on other than how his friend was feeling, but at that moment, having read the article and knowing that the picture on the front page captured was what Draco feared more than anything, Harry’s mind wouldn’t allow him to focus on anything but the wizard next to him. Before Harry managed to formulate himself, the blonde teenager raised his head, focusing on Mrs. Malfoy. 

“Mother… father was… he did not leave again yesterday, did he?” Draco slowly asked, he was not hesitant as much as he tried to not engage in a direct confrontation. However, it was evidently important for him to ask. His expression was not bold, not determined, not strong. Instead, he looked ever so hurt, slightly desperate, and evidently scared. However, added to all those emotions, there was a need to know, and honest, open plea for communication. 

“Draco…” His mother breathed slowly through her nose, her expression settling to a mask of disapproval, a mask which was cracking at the edges. “You would not think to accuse your own father of servitude to the Dark Lord.” It wasn’t a question, it was a somewhat more controlled outburst. 

“I would want nothing more than to never suspect my father of anything. I would want him to be absolutely innocent in every way.” Draco tried hard to control his voice, but it was clear that his emotions were beginning to overwhelm him. He wasn’t screaming, but he had raised his voice slightly. “But father hasn’t proven to be trustworthy, he hasn’t proven to be innocent. He tried to lead an entire coup of murder against innocent minors at Hogwarts for Merlin’s sake! I know that he is trying better, I want to believe that he was trying, but… But…” He looked down at the newspaper, his voice breaking and he became silent. 

Harry glanced between the two Malfoys, observing as the mother’s mask cracked and she reached out to pull her son into her arms, holding him close as she put a hand over his head. Draco tensed up in her arms, acting as if he was expecting her to try and convince him to let the topic go for the sake of their family. 

“I’m sorry.” Narcissa Malfoy mumbled, stroking over her son’s head. “I know that your father has failed you, and that you feel betrayed by his past actions. But in this, Lucius is innocent. He was with me the entire night, I know, because he spoke of the game for hours on end.” 

Draco bit his lower lip, then hugged back, the two of them seemingly having forgotten Harry. The Malfoys’ guest could tell that his friend wasn’t entirely convinced of his father’s innocence, but he seemed relieved to have his mother understand his concerns, and acknowledge them. Rather than providing excuses for Lucius Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy took care to present evidence, or at the very least testify of her own experiences. 

The son of a werewolf felt a little confused to hear that Mr. Malfoy and his son seemed so… similar. He had only seen the man around other adults, practicing self control and distance to all those around him. It was strangely endearing to learn that the father, just like his son, could apparently spend hours speaking about something he was interested in. Harry couldn’t imagine it, but he liked the idea that even such a man as Lucius Malfoy could be excited about something, even if the only person to ever know that excitement was his wife.

Harry felt out of place during the moment between the two Malfoys, and briefly wondered if he should just back out of the room and leave them alone. Before he could choose an action to take, there was a soft knock on the door. The voice of a servant was heard beyond it. 

“Madam? Mr. Lupin has arrived before the scheduled meeting, should I allow him inside?” 

Mrs. Malfoy stroke over her son’s head one more time before allowing him to go, then turned her body towards the door while straightening her clothes. “Yes. He must be worried about his son, do not keep the man waiting, let him in.” 

“Assuredly, Madam.” The voice responded, followed by the sound of footsteps. 

It did not take Remus long to arrive at the dining hall, he wasn’t running but he was walking as fast as a person could without breaking into jogging. He spotted his son and rushed over capturing him in a hug. 

“Are you alright, Harry?” His dad breathed out the question as he leaned back to see his face. 

Harry nodded, trying to give his dad an encouraging smile, which didn’t quite come off as sincere. “We returned here before any of that took place, me and Draco and Mr. Malfoy were long gone by the time the riot took place.”

“Yes… ah, g-good…” The man mumbled as he straightened up. He turned towards the Madam, giving her a polite bow of his head. “I’m sorry for coming unannounced, I was simply so worried. Thank you for receiving me.” Remus likely felt a little silly for coming running, especially since he logically knew that Harry and his company had been supposed to be back at the mansion directly after the game. 

Mrs. Malfoy shook her head, waving his concerns to the side. “Any worthy father would have done the same.” She stated. 

“Dad,” Harry spoke up, raising his head so that he was looking at the tall man. “Our friends were there, at the camping site. Would you please take us, uh, I mean me, to the Burrow?” It had become so natural to speak for himself and Draco that he accidentally included Draco into his request without thinking. “I need to know that they are all safe.”

Before Remus could answer, Draco spoke up as well. “I would like to come as well,” he stated, before looking to his mother for approval. 

Although her jaw tensed, she still gave her approval by the means of nodding. Remus looked to her as well, upon which she calmly announced her support verbally. “He may, but I want him to return home before eight tonight.” 

Remus nodded. “Very well… Harry, Mr. Malfoy, grab onto my arms.” He instructed them. “I don’t know in what state we will find the family in, and we might even be asked to leave without seeing anyone. However, I trust you both to not act out of line.” 

Harry and Draco grabbed one arm each, nodding as their former Professor instructed them on what they should expect and do. If Draco was as uncomfortable touching and holding onto Remus as Harry was touching Mr. Malfoy, he didn’t show it. Mrs. Malfoy didn’t appear to mind that the man planned on apparating from her dining room, and if she did mind, she wasn’t showing it. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for them to leave, not defensively or to make a statement about being displeased, but likely because she might be feeling lonely in seeing both her husband and son leave at such a stressful time. 

Her son noticed, and so he spoke to her before they apprated away. “I’ll be back soon, mother.” 

She nodded at him, smiling weakly. “I’ll hold you to it.” 

The Burrow appeared as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but additional rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked in a way which was impossible to achieve with mere Muggle architecture. A total of four or possibly five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof, every other color of the house somehow managed to clash horribly with that red roof. Remus had apprated to a spot right in front of it, but far enough that the full building could be seen from where they were standing. Draco couldn’t help but scrunch his nose slightly, but Harry assumed it was because the architecture and color of the building offended him, not because he couldn't possibly stand the idea of being in a poorer family’s home. After all, Draco had no problem with the Lupins’ house, his only dislike towards Harry’s home came in the form of discovering the hard way that not every home had unlimited amounts of hot water. 

The group hurried towards the doors, with Remus walking before the two teenagers as they approached the building. Next to the brightly colored door hung an old looking brass bell, one which Remus’ rang. There was some noise from inside, voices which Harry couldn’t make out, then the door opened to reveal Percy Weasly. He looked like he had been dressed properly, but his once white shirt was now darkened with sooth, sweat and grassmarks, and the tie hung limply over his shoulder, likely being thrown there to remain out of his way. His eyes looked tired, and his face was dirty, but he made a valiant attempt to appear presentable to the strangers. However, upon realising that he was looking at his former werewolf Professor, he allowed himself to relax. 

“Professor.” Percy nodded, then stepped aside. “Mother? Professor Lupin is here.” He showed for them to enter, then led them towards the kitchen. 

On the way to said kitchen, Harry glanced around in the Weasleys’ home. He didn’t know what he had expected from the home, but everything was somehow just as he expected. There were things everywhere, small, large, normal looking and absurdly shaped. Every surface had something on it, and the walls were covered in endless family pictures and portraits. The house smelled strange, not bad or good, but a curious mix of familiar and non familiar scents, of food and unknown plants and herbs. The Weasley family and their guests were located in the cluttered yet decently large kitchen. 

“Professor! Harry, Malfoy!” Hermione’s voice met them first, where she hurried over to them and more or less threw herself around Draco’s neck, hugging him tightly. This time, she didn’t seem to care about speaking in a lighter voice, just allowing her words to come out the way they did. “Oh I’m so happy to see you… We were worried that you might have gotten caught up or hurt.” She rambled. 

Draco hugged her in return, carefully patting her back. “No, we left right after the game.” He assured her as the young woman choked back a sob. She had clearly had a very rough night, and she was not the only one by far.

Neville and Ron were with her, neither of which seemed hurt, although they looked tired and dirty, although not to the same extent as Percy. Neither Mr. Weasley nor any of the oldest siblings were there, but the mother of the family was fussing over her daughter and one of the twins by the other end of the long dining table. Ginny’s hair had been roughly cut off on one side, and she was keeping what seemed to be a cold, wet towel pressed against her neck and cheek, leading Harry to the conclusion that she might have gotten burnt by the fire. One of the twins was sitting by the table as the other stood behind him, the seated twin’s hands appeared to have been burnt, and Mrs. Weasley was trying to treat them with some manner of ointment as she mumbled worriedly to herself.

“Oh Ginny… your beautiful face, and hair... and George’s hands… how will you be able to do anything like this… Whatever did you need that thing for? You should have just left it…” She fussed, glancing at her daughter’s face and then turned away quickly, as if it was too hard for her to see the wound. 

Remus walked over to the other end of the table, carefully pulling out a small potion vial from his inner pocket. “Molly?” He gently addressed her, causing her to look up from her son’s hands and towards the bottle. 

“Oh! Is that… a healing extract? Whatever are you… Remus, please, we couldn’t possibly accept such an expensive gift…!” She objected loudly, shaking her head. 

The man looked a little uncomfortable over her refusal. “I do not need it. It was given to me by Severus, and he has already stated that he will make me another one, should I need it.” 

She stared at the little vial, as if it was tempting her. Then she slowly reached out and accepted. “You’re too kind… thank you so very much.” She turned back to her children as Remus gave her a small smile. The woman then stopped, seeming to consider which one of her children she should give the vial to, as there wasn’t enough to give them both. Her eyes came to rest on her daughter, but before she could make a choice, Ginny spoke up. 

“Mom, give it to George. He’s actually using his hands everyday, I will be fine.” She looked almost insulted over the fact that her mother considered hers and her brother’s wounds to be equal enough to even begin considering who most needed the extract. 

“But Ginny, your face! You’ll become scarred!” The woman spoke of the scarring as if it was the worst possible thing which could ever happen to anyone, the word escaping from her lips like it burnt her tongue to speak it. 

Behind her, Remus flinched ever so slightly. He averted his eyes, turning his scarred face from the gathered group as he became self conscious about his own scarred appearance. 

Harry felt a throb of annoyance, and he opened his voice to say something, object in some way, but before he could figure out what to say, Ginny spoke up before him. 

“Mom, a scar on my face doesn’t matter! A tiny little scar is just a little scar, it doesn’t make me any less of what I was before the scar. Also, I plan on becoming a Professional Quidditch player, my nose is pretty much forfeit already. Besides, scars are cool.” She was referring to the fact that most Quidditch players broke their noses at least once during their careers. When she mentioned that scars were cool, she glanced towards Harry before quickly looking away. “You’re acting as if a scar will ruin my life, well, it won’t.” 

Behind her mother, Remus smiled weakly, clearly not as self conscious now as he was a few seconds prior. 

“You’re right… you’re right… My children are so very clever, helping your silly mother when she is wrong…” The woman mumbled as she turned towards her son, and began to prepare the hands for the healing extract. 

“What… happened yesterday?” Draco addressed his friend in a subtle voice, his voice kind and gentle as to not stir up too strong emotions in anyone. Hermione had let him go, but was still standing next to him. 

“The situation got out of hand.” The seated Weasley twin grinned, before his expression turned pained as his mother began to treat his wounds with the extract. It wouldn’t heal him instantly, and there would take time for him to recover even after the skin no longer hurt. Still, the healing extract would help the skin heal better and significantly lower the risk of infection in the wounds, probably even prevent the skin from long term scarring. 

“Ron, you take your friends up to your room, I’ll get you tea and a snack later. Just out you go, it’s getting crowded in here.” Mrs. Weasley half chased them out, waving her hand at them. 

As Ron nodded towards the house, signalling for his friends to come with him, Ginny turned towards her former Professor. Harry heard her ask a question as they left the room. 

“Do you cut Harry’s hair, Professor?” 

Ron led his friends upwards in the house, leading them higher and higher on unstable looking stairs up to his room. It was seemingly located beneath the attic, with a sign on the door which read ‘Ron’ in bright orange letters. The teenager hesitated before opening his door, allowing his friends to walk inside. Their eyes were assaulted with orange. The walls were orange, and all over the room were pictures of a Quidditch team whose uniforms were bright orange as well. It seemed that there were only necessary things in the boy’s bedroom, with a desk, a chair and a bed. A few shelves had been hammered into the walls and an empty rat cage had been thrown into a corner. Ron didn’t seem to have a lot of books or clothes, but on his wall hung his school robes. Most of the carpet was covered up by a mattress, which Harry assumed Neville had been sleeping in during his visit. Harry and Draco stopped to take in the orangeness of the room, before they entered. Draco peeked at the closest picture of the Quidditch team, nodding slowly as he recognised them. 

“Chudley Cannons.” Draco commented. “I didn’t think they played anymore.” 

Ron shut the door behind them, looking somewhat uncomfortable with Draco looking at his posters and photographs. “Well… they do… They are just… They just aren’t that… uh, noticeable anymore…” 

“I think one of their Chasers recently left for another team.” Neville carefully weighed in. 

Harry and Hermione looked at one another with a look of understanding. They both assumed that the others would start talking about Quidditch, and they couldn’t really give any comments on that topic. When Ron answered, the two friends realised that they were, indeed, right. 

“Don’t speak about her betrayal. I’m still hurting in my heart.” Ron whimpered, although it was rather evident that he was playing up his feelings a little. 

Draco shook his head. “She wasn’t their best player, I for one don’t understand why she’d be chosen over…” 

The three of them got lost in speaking about Quidditch. Perhaps they needed it to escape the feeling of dread and shock which had captured them all in its clutches. Neither Harry nor Hermione minded their discussion, but as they couldn’t participate in it, they pulled themselves to the side, with Hermione sitting down on the chair next to Ron’s desk as Harry peeked out the window. They were rather high up, and he stopped to take in the view of golden fields and the bright, almost cloudless sky before turning to his friend. 

“So… how are you doing?” Harry considered sitting down on the mattress, but he decided against it. He could stand, he was still young, he supposed. 

“Oh I’m… I’m fine, I wasn’t hurt.” Hermione answered, a weak smile playing on her lips. “I never thought… I didn’t think that…” She trailed off twice before shutting her mouth as she stared down at her hands. “I guess it was beyond silly of me, but I didn’t think things like this… happened to mages. I don’t know why, as I know of the Mage War, but I…” She fumbled with her fingers as she spoke, playing with her nails in a way which Harry deemed a little dangerous. He carefully reached out to pat the back of her hand, bringing to her attention what she was doing to herself. “Oh… Yes, forgive me…” She mumbled, keeping eye contact with one of the many orange posters in Ron’s room. 

Harry decided that she needed some space, instead turning to Neville and Ron, as the Quidditch interested group had noticed that their two friends weren’t able to participate in the conversation. As they turned, they noticed Hermione’s expression, and collectively concluded that they should probably pay attention to her and Harry. Not because they had to, or were socially expected to, but because they wanted to help ease their friend’s worries, as the question of what had happened the previous day still hung heavy in the air.

“If you do not mind me asking, what happened to your group yesterday?” Draco repeated his question, looking at Neville and Ron as he asked. “Me, Harry, and my father all returned home right from our seats. We didn’t stay or participate in the celebrations at all. All we know is what was written in _The Daily Prophet_.”

“We attended the game, of course, all of us. It was amazing. I’ve always wanted to see a world class team compete.” Neville began speaking, looking from Draco to Harry as he spoke, then smiled appreciatory towards Ron before he continued. “We weren’t exactly ecstatic that Ireland lost, but the Game of Seekers was so amazing that we were rather happy. The tree of us and all the Weasley siblings were preparing to celebrate, but there was some loud ruckus from outside. Mr. Weasley went outside to check, and he came back with this shocked and haunted look on his face. He told us all to leave, hurry up to exit the tent and run towards the forest. When we all went outside, the world was a sea of flames. There were screams coming from every direction, with tents burning all around, and people running for the woods like spooked cattle.” 

Hermione shuddered at his words before moving her arms up around her, hugging herself. Harry wished that he had some chocolate to share with her, but he hadn’t brought any with him to Malfoy Manor. Now when he thought about it, he realised that he had completely forgotten his bag in Draco’s room with all that had happened. Oh well, at least he had his two socks. He just had to make sure to pick up the bag when Remus dropped Draco off later that day. 

Everyone noticed, her actions caused Neville to stop speaking. Ron took over in his stead, so as to not cause Hermione to feel bad over having halted the conversation without even speaking. 

“Dad and Percy joined the efforts to put the fires out and to help people flee. We began running towards the forest as the tent caught on fire. George suddenly stopped and ran back to it. He apparently forgot something, he won’t tell us what, but apparently it was important enough for him to need to go back to the tent. That’s what caused his hands to get hurt. Me, Neville and Hermione got swept away by the crowd and didn’t see any of that ourselves, but luckily, Fred and Ginny managed to get him away from the fire before he got hurt any worse. When they tried to make it to the forest, one of those Death Ea- I mean, terrorists, threw a fire charm of some kind at them. It caught Ginny’s hair, but Percy was close by, and he cut her hair off with a cutting charm. He aimed really well, cut her hair off and only graced her cheek and ear a little bit, barely even a wound. Mom is pretty mad at him for ruining her hair, which is kind of weird considering the alternative… ” Ron trailed off when he realised just what the alternative meant. He lowered his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Your mom is just trying to forget what could have been lost by focusing on what was lost, as a way of cooperating with her anxiety.” Neville carefully patted the red haired teenager’s back. “It tends to happen when someone is trying to avoid thinking of the alternative, instead opting to fuss about the lesser loss so as to not have to think.” 

Harry nodded at his words. “It is not because she doesn’t care, but because she knows that she couldn’t express herself about the potential loss without breaking,” he filled in. Once more, Harry was reminded of the fact that Neville knew more than any boy his age should about loss and cooperation with loss. He tried to not think too hard about it.

“Still…” Ron muttered. “That comment about scars was really unnecessary. Professor Lupin looked so hurt, not to mention that you were there too…” He looked towards Harry, who couldn’t help but let his fingertips touch his own scarred forehead. “I’m glad Ginny told her off. Speaking of Ginny, are you really alright with her using your first name?” He continued to look at Harry as he spoke, but then looked at Neville and Draco in turn. 

“She’s using all of our first names?” Draco questioned, a displeased frown twisting his, to Harry, pleasing features. 

Ron shrugged, evidently nervous. “She just… has been doing it since my second year. She sort of sees you as heroes after what you did to save me from the Chamber of Secrets. She’s been all of your fan since then.” 

“Our fan…?” Neville mumbled as his cheeks heated. “You mean she feels that way about me too…?” He licked his lips, avoiding to look at anyone of them as he grappled with the idea that someone would find him worthy of being a hero. He could understand why someone would think that of Harry, as well as Draco. He would probably not even have batted an eye if someone told him that they viewed Hermione as an inspiration or idol, but he couldn’t really see anything worth admiring about himself. 

“Don’t let fame get to your head.” Draco teased him, pushing him with his elbow. 

Neville smiled and pushed him back with his own elbow, although far lighter than Draco had pushed him. “If I can be friends with you, Harry and Hermione without getting delusions of grandeur, I do believe I will be fine.” 

There was a knock on the door before Draco could answer, and Ginny entered without being allowed to. Her previously long, red hair had now been cut short, in a style similar to Harry’s but somewhat more flat. Actually her hair was shorter than his, seeing that it had been a while since Harry last cut his hair. Her cheek and neck were still scorched by the charm which had been thrown at her, but she didn’t show any sign of pain or that she had trouble moving. Ron seemed slightly annoyed by her rejection of his privacy, but before he could complain, she spoke up. 

“Wanna play Quidditch?” Ginny beamed at them. “Mom is making some snacks alongside Professor Lupin, and I thought we all could use some cheering up. Draco, you can use George’s broom, and you can use dad’s broom, Neville. I know that Hermione and Harry don't play, so I won’t ask any of you to play.” She grinned at them, unintentionally confirming to everyone present that she really was bold enough to use all their first names. 

Harry considered if it was worth correcting her into using his surname, but he found that he didn’t entirely mind her using his first name. Since he wasn’t minding her brother using his first name, it felt a little silly to demand that she used it. Thus, he opted for not saying anything about it, instead just nodding at her. Draco seemed more displeased to not have been addressed as Malfoy, but his annoyance seemed to fade when there was Quidditch to be occupied by. 

“Very well… What rules do you play by?” Draco asked, following her towards the door. 

Neville and Ron looked at one another, before glancing at Harry and Hermione. The young woman stood up, showing them all that she was about to come with them. Thus, the group migrated downwards and out on the fields. Harry and Hermione sat down on one of the half broken benches which faced the fields. From their bench, they could see the pseudo Quidditch arena.

They were sitting in front of the golden fields, under clear blue skies, with the gentle wind ruffling their hair and whatever was growing on those golden fields. Somewhere above them and to the left, a windchime was playing its music to the peaceful world. The scene felt calm, so very calm that Harry almost found it abnormal. He wondered if every day at the Burrow was this serene. If it was, he understood well why someone would want to remain here and just allow themselves to partake in that peace. He completely understood what Hermione had meant when she spoke of how much she adored this place.

In front of them, the other teenagers began flying, breaking the stillness with their game, but not to calmness of it. Harry glanced towards Hermione, and noticed that she still seemed to be stressed and emotional, which was very understandable. 

“Say, Hermione?” His words made her raise her head, glancing towards him from underneath her long, messy hair. “If you need to talk, or want to talk, I will listen to you. Whenever, wherever. If you need it, I’m here.” He gave her a gentle smile, leaning his head to the side. 

She returned his smile, then licked her lips while avoiding his eyes. “I really… I really don’t want to talk right now but… If you could, that is, if you don’t mind… I could really use a hug…” She wasn’t so much speaking as she was mumbling. “If you could just… hug me… and hold me… I’d be… thankful…” 

Harry raised his arm, allowing her to slide closer to him, their sides touching as she rested her head against his shoulder. Harry put his arm around her, careful not to touch anywhere which would make her uncomfortable. She curled up against him, and closed her eyes. 

“I’ll hug you as much as you want.” Harry promised her in a small voice, making sure that his words were only for her to hear. 

Harry looked forward again, watching the game unfolding before them on that peaceful day. The chime continued to play above their heads, but it didn’t play loud enough to cover up the sound of the young woman crying. The son of a werewolf let her cry against him, he kept his arm around her, trusting that she would ask him if she needed more than just his arm and his closeness. 


	5. Chapter 4 - In which Alastor Moody is late for the Hogwarts Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next to the green eyed teenager, Draco had opened his copy of The Daily Prophet, and was reading the article which had so prominently been featured on the front page. The title read ALASTOR ‘MAD-EYE’ MOODY’S HOME ATTACKED! 
> 
> Harry gently pushed his friend with his elbow, causing Draco to look over at him, waiting for a question. “Do you mind if I read with you?” Harry asked. 
> 
> “Not at all.” The blonde mage shifted the newspaper so that the son of a werewolf could read it better, then settled back in his chair to read. 

The rest of the summer felt like it swept by without Harry really experiencing the individual days as they turned into the next day. Remus, but especially Sirius, were hesitant about Harry visiting the Malfoys any more that summer, but far more eager to allow Draco to stay with them. They never accused Mr. Malfoy of anything, and they never changed their opinion on his son, but the two men were unable to forget Severus Snape’s warning, and therefore found themselves more comfortable to have Harry remain with them and invite Draco to their home, rather than have Harry stay at Malfoy Manor. At least with how things were for the moment. They hoped that they might be able to trust their sort-of-shared-but-mostly-Remus’-child to stay in the same house as Lucius Malfoy again, somewhere in the future. 

Hermione stayed over at the Lupin Household once, but she seemed to have found a connection with the Weasley family, and spent a lot of time there for the remaining days of summer break. She wrote to Harry that she would be joining the Weasley children on their way to the Hogwarts Express on the first of September, and that she was looking forward to seeing him and her other friends again. The connection to mage society seemed to do her good, as she had been steadily improving since the day after the terrorist attack. 

Harry, his dad, and his dogfather left for the Hogwarts Express early, as they always did on the days when Harry left for school. They arrived at the hidden platform, and made their way to the back of the train. Snuffles tried to get on with Harry, and had to ultimately be lifted off the train by Remus. Remus didn’t let him down again, but instead held the large dog in his arms. This suited the canine just fine, as his vantage point improved significantly. 

While they waited for the rest of the passengers to arrive, Harry and Remus held a conversation, with Harry inside the train, hanging out of the window to speak with his dad, who was in turn standing on the platform, holding his, on paper, service dog. As they spoke, more and more people gathered at the platform. However, to all of their surprises, a few students who stopped to speak with Remus, or at the very least wished him a good day. Harry could tell how happy it made his dad, judging by the dog’s wagging tail, Snuffles enjoyed seeing his fellow pseudo-canine's happiness as well. A few people wanted to pet Snuffles as well, which the Professor allowed, causing the dog’s tail to wag even more. At least for Snuffles, the crowd and rush weren't bothering him.

With the help of Remus’ tall figure, Harry’s friends found the compartment which he had reserved for them all. Draco arrived first. Only his mother had joined in dropping him off, and she stopped for a minute to address Remus, before she left again. During her polite but not forced conversation with the werewolf, her dog-disguised cousin did his best to make the weirdest dog faces and noises in attempting to interrupt the conversation. They were still noises and expressions of a canine, but quite the odd ones. It didn’t work in his favor, she only glanced at him once. When she had left, Remus threatened to put him down again, after which Snuffles became a very obedient dog once more. 

The whistle sounded, signalling that the Hogwarts Express was about to set out. Remus stepped back, waving towards Harry and his friends as the train began to roll out. In his arms, Snuffles waved a paw as well, in a gesture which made him seem far too human for an animal, but luckily, nobody seemed to notice in the crowd of waving mage children and families. 

Harry’s compartment ended up hosting himself, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Nott. Nott was the only one in the compartment who had been mostly absent from the others during the summer break, and while he was not anyone’s close friend, he was a person who they all felt decently at ease being around. While Neville and Harry had been unable to meet each other a lot, they had still kept active letter exchange going.

They group began by chatting to one another about their summer breaks, but as most of them had been around the others throughout most of the break, the available information to exchange with one another quickly depleted. It became somewhat patronising to tell Nott everything they all already knew, so they stuck to summaries mostly. Besides, nobody in the compartment likely wanted to talk about Death Eaters and terrorists.

After a short discussion about Quidditch, most occupants of the compartment began to look through their bags for something to read. Hermione and Draco both pulled out their copies of the day’s newspaper, Neville searched for a book in his luggage, while Nott looked for a book which he was excited to show the others.

Ron reached for his own bag and opened it. As he did, something shot out of it, launching into the air before exploding into a colorful firework. The one firework became many, filling the entire compartment with smaller fireworks which released a large amount of glitter all over the people gathered. The display had been loud, colorful, intense, but also short, leaving only the glitter behind to prove that it had happened. 

Most of them had just stared at it, not even Harry had managed to utter a sound during the short display. He now found himself staring blankly at what was left of the display with an open mouth and a horrified look on his face. He wasn’t the only one who had been scared, Hermione’s eyes were wet, and Neville looked very pale. Draco had bit his lower lip, his wand in his hand as he had half gotten up from his seat. Only Nott seemed transfixed with what had just been, his eyes shining with mad glee. 

“Sh-! I’m so sorry!” Ron apologised, noticing just how much the display had scared and affected his friends. “Fred and George are sort of going nuts with their… joke products! I didn’t know it was there, I swear. I’ll tell mom and have her scold them, gosh, I’m so sorry…” He repeated once more, staring at his bag with an honest expression of dislike and disapproval. He seemed more than a little ashamed and scared to have had something in his bag which startled his newfound friend group.

Nott got up, sending a cloud of glitter all around him as he jumped to his feet. “That… was… awesome!” He cheered. “Your brothers made that? I mean, it was way cool, but I bet it could be even better! I have to go talk to them right now, I’ll be back later… what a rush!” He yelled the last as he bolted for the door, the glitter flowing around him as he ran, creating a colorful cloud trail behind him. 

Draco slowly sat back down as he attempted to brush the glitter from his clothes. He looked like he was trying very hard to hold back his anger in an attempt to remain dignified. He knew that being mad with Ron would gain him nothing, thus he tried to contain himself in not blowing up at him. 

“Does anyone know… any cleaning spell for this…?” Ron mumbled as he looked out over the glitter carnage, his expression a sheepish one of pain, regret and shame. 

“I think Professor McGonagall used one to clean away dog hair last year…” Neville looked to Hermione, hoping that she would be able to recall what the spell had been. 

“Oh, yes! Yes, of course…” Hermione’s face lit up as she realised that she did remember that spell. She pulled her wand out, causing everyone to let out relieved sighs over the fact that they wouldn’t be glitter covered for the rest of the year. She uttered the spell, and to their relief, it worked. The glitter gathered into a ball in the air, which they placed in the trash bag of the compartment. 

“You have collectively saved all our lives… Thanks, Hermione…” Ron sank back in his own seat, sighing deeply. “Bloody dinguses…” He muttered the last words to himself. 

Draco sighed as he pulled his hand through his blonde hair, slowly shaking his head. “I cannot say I appreciated that, thank you for cleaning us up.” He nodded at Hermione, who smiled as Harry and Neville thanked her too.

Harry leaned back in his seat, looking down into the trash can, at all the glitter. He thought about what Ron had said about the whole thing being a joke, and he wondered what had actually been funny about it. The so-called prank had been loud, bright, and all together rather scary. The fire in the fireworks had seemingly triggered bad memories from the terrorist attack at the Quidditch World Cup in both Neville and Hermione. Ron would probably never be able to open a bag again without fearing that his siblings had sneaked something inside of it. In the end, nobody had even been there to enjoy the display of frightening Ron and his friends, and thus all there was to it was the fear and inconvenience caused for the people experiencing it. The only one who had even found the joke remotely funny had been Nott, but he was a person who seemed to desire distraction and thrill more than anything. Since he was very likely depressed in some manner, loud distractions were probably something that he felt like he needed. Especially if he suspected that his own dad had been involved with the Quidditch terrorist attack, then he might desire even more mind-halting distractions. Harry considered speaking to Nott later, maybe he could help him feel better by speaking about Nott’s inventions, if only for a little. 

Next to the green eyed teenager, Draco had opened his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , and was reading the article which had so prominently been featured on the front page. The title read ALASTOR ‘MAD-EYE’ MOODY’S HOME ATTACKED! 

Harry gently pushed his friend with his elbow, causing Draco to look over at him, waiting for a question. “Do you mind if I read with you?” Harry asked. 

“Not at all.” The blonde mage shifted the newspaper so that the son of a werewolf could read it better, then settled back in his chair to read.

> ### ALASTOR ‘MAD-EYE’ MOODY’S HOME ATTACKED!
> 
> **Break in inside former Auror’s home reported by the neighbours last night; Ministry officials called to the scene to find Mr. Moody safe but aggressive, his house turned upside down!**
> 
> Yesterday, the last day of August, neighbours of Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody heard violent noises and shouting from his home. It is not unusual for Mr. Moody to raise a fuss; after his retirement from the Auror business, the man has become infamous for seeing Death Eaters everywhere. His actions and suspicions have led many Ministry workers to check up on him and his household. Thus, the disturbance itself was not too big of an occurrence for Mr. Moody’s fellow mages. That was, until a flash of green caused them all alarm, and Ministry professionals were called to the scene.
> 
> When the Ministry professionals arrived at the scene, they found a roughed up Mr. Moody, who came to greet them. According to reports, the man allegedly yelled at the officials that “They were too late!” and that “If this is the standard we will be accepting from now on, we all might just lay down and perform the killing curse on ourselves, since the intruder would have killed me five times over by the time you dogs showed up!” His commentary was yelled at the officers, before he refused to let them enter his home.
> 
> However, complications arose when Muggle officers arrived at the scene, and had to be convinced to leave the scene once again by the gathered Ministry officials. After a considerable amount of time, the professionals were able to enter Mr. Moody’s house, where they confirmed that some manner of attack had taken place. Mr. Moody witnessed that his attacker was masked, and thus did not allow any form of identification. Further, he stated that the masked attacker had apparated away before the Aurors had made it to the scene. According to one of the Ministry workers, it seemed that somebody had turned the house upside down, pulling out drawers, books, and thrown items all around. The worker stated to _The Daily Prophet_ that it very much looked like someone had been searching feverishly for something. The Ministry officials made certain to enforce that Mr. Moody should contact them if he found that anything had been stolen. The former Auror then chased the Ministry officials out, and closed the door on them, saying that he needed to pack for his journey to Hogwarts. Mr. Moody’s wand was tested for the performance of the forbidden killing curse, but came out negative. No further legal actions will be taken against the former Auror, as this particular occurrence did in fact place him in danger.
> 
> Mr. Moody may be a retired Auror, but he will be working as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry for a year, starting the first of September, 1994. The wizard will be taking over the position from Mr. Remus Lupin, the infamous werewolf who worked at the school for one and a half years before the reveal of his nature. Hopefully, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher may prove safer to keep around children and minors.

Harry leaned back in his seat, displeased, angry and bothered emotions all wrestling for dominance on his face. He did not like in the least that the article had found the need to bring up his dad and hurt him like that. He couldn’t help but think of his dad, alone in the house, once again experiencing the world turning against him for something that he couldn’t help.

Then, Harry remembered that Remus wasn’t alone.

Remus had a partner. For the second time in his life, Remus was experiencing a different love that family love, a love that he had likely desired and needed all his life: the love between partners. Not to mention, there was also Sirius. Harry smiled to himself as he recalled Snuffles stealing newspapers from Remus after said papers had hurt him by calling the werewolf a dangerous individual, and promptly proceeding to rip said newspaper apart. 

Harry couldn’t let an article get him down, he wouldn’t allow it to get him down. It was just words on a page after all, the words would be replaced by new words, until everyone had forgotten about those previous words. It would take time, and it would be hard until then, but at the very least, this was temporary. Sooner or later, the world would stop caring. Harry tried to find solace in that. 

“Why would they call him that?” Hermione’s words were annoyed and comparatively loud, as she angrily lowered her newspaper and stared down at the front page which displayed a house labelled as Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody’s. “Why would they call him ‘Mad-Eye’? That is horrible…” 

“Well, it’s because he has this crazy eye that…” Ron began, but when Hermione looked at him with such disapproval that he shut his mouth. His cheeks began to heat as understanding dawned on him, causing him to nod to himself. “I...I see your point… I’m… I get it.” When he thought about it, Ron realised as well as her that giving people cruel nicknames based on disfigurement wasn’t exactly a humane or kind practice. 

“In the case of Moody,” Draco spoke up after Ron, urging Hermione to direct her anger in his direction. “He does not mind the nickname. I understand why you feel that it is slander, and unfair towards him as it makes a mockery of his appearance. However, Moody has cited that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him or his appearance. He could have had any normal eye prosthetic if he wished to, but he has specifically chosen his, well, mad-eye, because it gives him an advantage with being able to look in any direction, unhindered by, well…. most things.” The blonde wizard explained. “It could be that he was just forced to get used to it, but even if it was, you’d only insult him if you tried to protect him from slander at this point. It’s far better to not use the nickname since you find it offensive, and call him Mr. Moody instead.” 

Hermione huffed weakly, surrendering to the truth of her friend’s words. “I don’t… like it…” She admitted. “But I guess you are right… I can’t really do anything about it since he is an adult, all I can do is really just be respectful on my own, despite what the world says.” She nodded to herself, looking determined to be the best she could personally be. 

“When you are the Minister of Magic, maybe you can change things then?” Neville suggested, smiling gently at his friend in a way which made him appear more handsome than just a second ago. 

Hermione blushed at him before she quickly nodded. “Yes, yeah, sure… when I am the Minister of Magic…” She nervously joked and lifted the newspaper up and hid behind it, escaping her embarrassment by hiding in the articles. 

Draco turned to Harry, giving him a smile. “Do you want to keep on reading with me or do you plan on reading on your own?” He asked as the son of a werewolf avoided looking into his pale, beautiful eyes. 

“Nah, I’ll just… read on my own, thanks.” Harry nodded at him, before beginning to look for a book to read in his luggage. 

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was a comparatively calm one. The friends spend most of the journey reading, the stillness broken by small conversations, and Ron’s snoring, as he fell asleep with his head resting on the wall of the train. For the rest of the ride, all felt peaceful. 

In contrast to the calm stillness of the Hogwarts Express, Harry experienced the Great Hall as loud and intrusive. He was happy to be back, and he looked forward to the feast, but the happy and warm atmosphere which he had expected seemed to not really be as present as it usually was by the beginning of the year. It took the son of a werewolf some time until he noticed what was different, but when he did notice, it became obvious. Some people and groups were avoided by the rest of the students, creating gaps on the benches. It was happening by every table, but most of all by the Slytherin. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table, and least by the Hufflepuff table. 

Harry looked around after they had been seated, and realised that his group was one of the groups which people avoided. The group consisted of himself and Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, as well as Blaise and Nott. Hermione, Neville and Ron were seated by the Gryffindor table, as was expected of them for at least the moment. Their little trio was apparently unaffected by the avoidance. This caused Harry to consider what might be causing the divide. He could only think of one reason, one thing which could possibly connect the behavior with the people and groups that were being avoided: affiliation with Death Eaters. Draco’s father was a well known Death Eater suspect, as were the Crabbe and Goyle families suspected of affiliation with Death Eaters. Nott’s dad was a confirmed Death Eater, which made him especially worthy of avoidance. Harry looked further down the Slytherin table, and found that he could single out a few people in the same predicament as his friends, all of them having gaps around them. 

The realisation of how the Quidditch terrorist attack had affected the climate at Hogwarts made Harry feel a little ill, his stomach aching with nervous anxiety. He had already been through a lot of accusations in regards to his own supposed dark powers, and affiliation with forbidden and Dark Magic. Not to mention the ignorance in fearing him because of his dad’s condition. He did not want anyone to have reason to freeze him out or suspect him or further misconduct but… what could he do? There was no way he would abandon any of his friends, or leave Draco alone to face the potential accusations which risked arising. Harry chewed on his lower lip, trying to not let his anxiety affect him. He came to the conclusion that he would simply do as Hermione had decided that she would do; namely not try to change the world, but instead focus on what he could logically do for the moment. He would keep his head down, try and just remain out of focus, and be polite and kind towards those he interacted with. Some would suspect him, and other people like him, no matter what he did, thus he decided to give them as many reasons as possible to doubt that he would ever step out of line. Yeah, that plan would surely work, if at least only a little. 

Harry gathered his courage and leaned forward, calling his friends a little closer so that he could speak to them without disturbing the sorting ceremony. He licked his lips before beginning to whisper to them. “Hey, everyone? So, I’d hate for there to be a misunderstanding later on… For what it’s worth, I was staying at Malfoy Manor during the night of the terrorist attack on the Quidditch Cup. Mr. Malfoy never left the mansion after we returned that day, and Mrs. Malfoy never left to begin with. I just wanted you all to know that even if people might talk, the Malfoys were not physically involved in that attack.” He didn’t say that the family wasn’t involved whatsoever, as he didn’t know if Mr. Malfoy was, but he stressed that the Pureblood hadn’t been present during the riot. Hopefully he could trust Narcissa Malfoy's words regarding her husband, he truly wanted to believe in the woman's words. If nothing else, Harry felt that he was willing to risk being a little deceitful for the sake of Draco being safe and comfortable.

Nott and Goyle nodded, while Crabbe avoided looking straight at anyone. 

“I bet my old man was there…” Nott spit out an accusation in a low tone of voice. “I can’t prove it, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Don’t worry, nobody is going to accuse anyone without proof.” Nott continued, his statement gained a few nods from the people gathered. “If we start attacking one another, we’ll all fall.”

“Very true.” Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Besides, we all know better than to judge one another based on the actions, perceived or not, which our parents have performed.”

To Harry’s surprise, Blaise nodded. “You are correct, I would not enjoy being judged based on someone else’s actions.” 

Everyone knew that Blaise wasn’t the type to really stick up for anyone which made his words appear somewhat sarcastic. Still, they all felt like there was some meaning behind his words, rather than just mockery. Harry assumed that Blaise knew more than most what it was like to be judged for his parent’s actions, as his mother had quite the reputation due to her rather frequent change of marriage partners. 

“I mean… we are all friends, right?” Goyle smiled nervously at them all. “If we have troubles with one another, we should talk it out and not ignore it.” 

“Sounds great.” Harry smiled at him, then to his fellow Slytherin students. “Can we agree on not spreading rumors and instead talk to one another if we are struggling?” He suggested, looking hopefully at his friends. 

Parkinson was the only one who hesitated to agree, but in the end, they all nodded, approving of the idea. The unity among his friends made Harry’s heart feel lighter right away. Judging by Draco’s relieved expression, he felt the same way. 

The sorting of the first years was completed, with some new faces joining every table. Harry didn’t know anyone who would be sorted that year, which led to him and his friends mostly whispering to one another about this and that as the ceremony went on, only breaking their conversation for the sake of applauding every now and then. Harry couldn’t help but think back again to how it had appeared that every person in the entire hall was watching him as he was sorted, and how it felt like absolutely everyone had stared and was paying attention to him. To some extent, it might be true that Harry Potter received more attention than other first year students upon his sorting, but in hindsight, Harry probably wasn’t as observed as he had felt back then. It had mattered, it wasn't that he hadn't been noticed, but time still had let down and thus the event hadn't affected his continued schooling too much. No matter if the event itself had been as bad as he remembered it, it still passed. 

The Headmaster rose to his feet, drawing attention towards him and the teachers’ table as he did. Harry sneaked a peek towards Professor Snape, who appeared oddly lonely without Remus by his side, seeing how Harry had seen the man together with his dad over more or less the entirety of the summer. The teenager noted that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn’t present by the teachers’ table, which seemed slightly odd. He also noticed that Hagrid wasn’t by the table either. As he hadn’t earned his teaching license yet, it was not very surprising. The old wizard who had educated them last year was seated next to Professor McGonagall, seemingly enjoying conversing with her. She looked pleased in return, although she kept on glancing towards the empty seat, likely wondering as Harry was why the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher hadn’t arrived yet. 

“Dear students, old and new, you are all most welcome to Hogwarts.” Professor Dumbledore held out his hands towards them all, as if welcoming them into his embrace. His expression and posture was open and cheerful, it seemed to beam at them all personally, as if he really was excited to greet them. Harry couldn’t help but think that the old wizard yet again appeared like a grandfather, one who had missed his grandchildren and was overjoyed to see them again, while also trying his best to not overlook a greeting in favor of moving on to what he really wanted to talk about. “Before I move on to telling you about this upcoming year at the school, I must go over some rules.” 

Harry noticed how a few older students around them stopped listening when the Headmaster repeated the same rules which they had heard over and over again for many years now. Harry did his best to listen, but he found his mind drifting off, called to adventure and dreams by the old wizard’s calming voice. 

“Now, allow me to begin with telling all of you students about the exciting details of the Trimagus Tournament, as I am quite sure you are all eager to learn more than what the newspapers have been telling you.” As he spoke, a door sung open behind the teachers' table with such force that it slammed into the wall. The door created a loud and sudden noise, which startled at least half of the assembled people in the Great Hall. Many teachers spun around to see what had caused the noise, as the Headmaster himself looked towards it with polite confusion. 

In the doorway stood a man. Harry was a little too far away to see him clearly, yet he felt as if he could feel the wizard’s paranoid and heavy aura all the way to where he was sitting. From the little he could see, the man appeared rough, like all his features had been carved out of wood by a not too careful woodcutter, as scars covered his entire face and likely most of his body. His expression was hard, haunted, yet impossibly stern. He seemed to stare down the entire Great Hall as the people inside it stared at him. One of the man’s eyes appeared normal, while the other was a big, vivid, electric blue orb. Even from where Harry was sitting he could see it moving, dancing around his skull as if trying to keep every single person in the hall under surveillance at once. Slowly, he started moving, the normal eye locking on to the teachers’ table as the other likely kept on observing the world around him. As he walked, Harry noticed that one of his legs was actually made out of wood, its heavy contact with the ground sending echoes around the very silent hall as he approached the table. 

The Headmaster moved his chair back a little before coming around the table to shake the man’s hand. The two exchanged silent words to one another, before the old wizard showed towards the free seat by the table, towards which the newly arrived man headed. He sat down heavily, only nodding towards the other teachers and professors who glanced towards him with various expressions of displeasure and worry. 

“Students and colleagues, allow me to introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Alastor Moody. Mr. Moody shall be acting as your teacher for only this year, by my own personal request. He apologises for his late arrival, and hopes that he did not cause you too big of a shock with the opening of that door.” The old wizard chuckled, making a few other mages participate in his laughter as the newly arrived man hauled a bottle from inside his coat and drank from it. 

The Headmaster hadn’t needed to introduce the man, everyone knew from the eye alone that the teacher had to be Alastor Mad-Eye Moody. Most dind't quite dare looking at him, but the man’s electric blue eye appeared more than eager to stare anyone and everyone down. 

The old professor thought for a second, but then continued where he had left off. “For those of you who are not familiar with the Trimagus Tournament, it was first established around three hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of magic: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute. A champion will be selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools have historically taken turns to host the tournament once every five years, and this year, Hogwarts has the honor to welcome our international friends to Britain.” 

The old wizard stopped to smile at the students, but he probably needed a short breathing break as well before he continued speaking. “The tournament was created to foster relationships between the schools and promote friendship, as well as allow exchange of information between the students and teachers from different nations. Both the schools will of course be bringing a collection of students who will be competing for the honor to represent their respective houses of learning. Those who were not chosen as the champion will be attending Hogwarts this year as exchange students. They will be taking classes alongside the sixth and seventh year students of Hogwarts, and graduate for the year alongside you. I expect you all to treat them well, and be patient with the fact that English is not their native language.”

The Headmaster took another short breathing break before continuing on once more. “The Ministry of Magic has for some years been eager to reinstate the Trimagus Tournament, and has now managed to do it. That means that Hogwarts will not only become hosts to three large events next school year, or alongside hosting visitors from other nations, but that the three tasks will take place on Hogwarts grounds. The tournament is sponsored by the Ministry, and there will continuously be many people coming and going during the weekends in which the events take place. As I stated last year, the tournament is likely to come to provide a distraction in your study year, which could potentially become problematic for your studies. I will not pretend that this is not a fact. Thus, I want to stress that anyone who feels like the events are distracting them should speak with their Head of their House or teacher for choice, thus be allowed extra counseling or assistance. The hosted events are only mandatory for the champions, and the events will only take up a total of three weekends. It has been designed to be as little in the way of the other students as possible, but should you need it, help is freely given to anyone within Hogwarts, should they but ask.” 

“For those students who find themselves interested in competing for Hogwarts, I remind you now that no participants below the age of sixteen will be permitted to compete. Even then, you will need permission from your parents if you are below eighteen, and you will likely have to retake a year here at Hogwarts, as your year will mostly consist of the tournament. The person who is chosen to champion Hogwarts will be speaking to the Head of their House about their studies, and formulate plans to finish up their studies next year, for the sake of allowing them to place their focus on the tournament. That being said, the student is expected to attend all their classes as usual, although full completion of the year will not be demanded, instead, some leisure will be offered.” 

The Headmaster was interrupted by people objecting to the idea that the champion was excused from a collection of things in regards to studying. 

The old wizard simply chuckled at them. “Previously, the champion was expected to compete while completing the entire school year as well. Many burnt themselves out quite badly, and failed in both academics and the Trimagus Tournament.” He scolded the loud students gently, easing them back in their seats with sullen looks on their faces. 

“For the Trimagus Tournament this year, the tournament will be attended to and overlooked by Mr. Crouch’ Department of International Cooperation and Mr. Bagman’s Department of Games and Sports, from British Ministry of Magic. The three champions will be participating for the honor of their school, as well as for a hundred Galleons. Thus, the tournament is going to be far more an impressive event this year, at the hands of the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry have decided to reinstate the tournament under the condition that new safety rules are used, including the rule that no student under the age of sixteen will submit their name for consideration.” He smiled at them with a glint in his eyes as a few people began to whisper to one another.

“Ah, yes, some of you have noted that I said consideration, rather than selection. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Trimagus Tournament, the champions were traditionally selected by the use of the Goblet of Fire, in which all who wished to enter the tournament placed their names within, and the most fitting candidates were chosen. This year, as arranged by the Ministry of Magic of Britain, France and Bulgaria, the artifact will be used sparingly. The Goblet of Fire will not be on open display, and only a total of nine names will be placed within it, three names from each school. The Goblet is the final judge, but the people are carefully chosen beforehand with the help of teachers’ approval, and their parents’ approval should the student be below eighteen. I state this now for the sake of clarity: nobody is to place their name in the Goblet without strict monitoring and approval. The Goblet will not be on display and students will not be allowed to access it.” The old wizard stared down at the students, eyeing them with a serious look on his old face, one which showed both compassion and worry. “The Goblet is a powerful magical artifact, and to protect those who wish to enter, the teachers will be closely monitoring and evaluating who is allowed to even attempt to initiate a contract with the Goblet, as the contract with the Goblet is binding.” 

“Now, with all this said, allow me to speak a little longer,” the old wizard’s expression returned to the usual kind one he often wore, as he smiled at his students. “The delegations from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute will arrive by the 30 of October, those of you who wish to become Hogwarts champions should speak to the Head of your Houses, or a trusted teacher, and be evaluated for entry. The three names from each school will be placed within the Goblet of Fire, and the champions will be announced the following day during dinner. Now, now, I’ve kept your attention for so long! My dear students, enjoy the feast!” 

As he exclaimed the last words, the plates before them filled with food, and the jugs and jars filled with various drinks. The Great Hall became full of life and noise as people began partaking in the feast. Around them, the older students who were allowed to enter the tournament began talking about the prospect of entering, while some of the younger students complained that they wouldn’t be allowed to compete for their school. Harry didn’t care too much about the tournament, but he was more than happy about the topic having seemingly overpowered all thoughts and conversations about anything that wasn’t the Trimagus Tournament. Perhaps the tournament would help distracting from the unrest regarding Death Eaters and terror attacks, and thus let Harry and his friends go unnoticed for a year. As he put some potatoes on his plate, he noticed Hermione, Neville and Ron approach their side of the Slytherin table. They weren’t the only ones crossing over to other tables, it seemed to be happening a little everywhere around the Great Hall. 

“Hi Zabini,” Hermione greeted him as she sat down next to him. “Nice to see you.” 

Blaise didn’t answer her right away, as he was staring over her shoulder towards Neville, staring at him with an almost lost expression. If his skin hadn’t been so dark, his cheeks might have even been red, but as it was, Harry couldn’t tell if his associate was blushing or not, but he most certainly seemed to be. Next to Blaise, Nott followed his gaze, before his expression turned sour, and he looked down at his food, seemingly searching for a means of escape from the situation. Blaise snapped out of his trance before smiling at the newly arrived Gryffindor students. 

Pleasantries were exchanged before everyone began to eat, however, it didn’t take too long before a careful and gentle voice pushed its way into the conversation, interrupting enough for the owner to get their attention. When Harry looked towards the owner, he found Luna Lovegood standing next to their spot by table, her pale hands playing with a copy of _The Quibbler_ as she looked directly at Harry. 

“Hello, fellow child of a werewolf,” the girl began, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Her words caused Harry to chuckle.

“I have noticed that many seem to practice the art of exchange this year. So in preparation for the cultural exchanges, I have opted to begin practicing as well. Thus, I was wondering if any of your seats are free tonight?” 

“You’re welcome.” Harry smiled at her as he showed towards the empty seat next to him. “Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood, fellow child of a werewolf.” Harry called for his friends’ attention. “She’s one year younger than us, but I hope nobody minds.” 

“Nah, you’re cool!” Nott grinned at her, jumping at the chance to escape his unpleasant mind space. “I love _The Quibbler_ , your dad is my hero. I’ve been reading the newspaper since I was, like, ten.” 

“You do?” The blonde girl smiled absently at him in return, she appeared to struggle a little to focus on his face, instead avoiding his eyes in a way she hadn’t done with Harry’s. In a sense, she appeared almost shy. “That makes me very happy to hear. Dad will be very happy too.” 

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” Draco hurriedly interrupted Nott before he could drown the girl in an avalanche of words and leave them all nameless to her for another year to come. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Oooh, French. I see you are practicing too.” The daughter of a werewolf nodded approvingly. 

Draco glanced at Harry as if to ask for help, but Harry just shook his head slightly, showing that he shouldn’t try and challenge her view of the world. Maybe one day, but not here and not now. 

“Yes, I do speak French.” Draco concluded, it was impossible to know from just the statement if the teenager really did speak French or if he was just trying to not make the girl seem strange. 

“I’m Blaise Zabini. Pleased to meet you.” Blaise smiled politely, his attention continuously going back to Neville. “I, too, speak a little French.” 

“My name is Neville Longbottom, I like your necklace.” Neville tried, leaning his head politely to the side. 

“Thank you.” She absently played with her corkscrew necklace as the teenager complimented her. 

“I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you, Luna. You can call me Hermione.” The young woman skipped past the awkwardness of boundaries and allowed the younger one to address her with familiarity.

“Ron Weasley. Just Ron is fine, nobody knows who Mr. Weasley is anyhow.” The red haired teenager shrugged. 

“Call me Vince, this here is my girlfriend Pansy.” Crabbe spoke up, shocking Harry with how dark his voice had become. He had heard it before the feast, but in the silence, it was easy to forget that the previously soft boy had matured so much. 

Parkinson let out a little squeak and pushed him with her elbow. “You romantic you! But I can introduce myself as well, I’m Pansy Parkinson, that is Parkinson to you. Actually all of you. Except for my boyfriend, of course.” She beamed at Crabbe, who smiled back and put an arm around her. The arm made her immensely happy, and she cuddled up to him. The two of them seemed to be very happy. Harry couldn't recall ever seeing Parkinson so very confident, which truly was an improvement to the girl who had first come into their circle of friends. Crabbe seemed very confident and satisfied with himself, as well. 

“You didn’t tell us you were dating!” Nott exclaimed before reaching out to high five them both in turn. “Congratulations!” 

“Thanks!” Parkinson returned the high five before snuggling back up to Crabbe, looking like the cat who got the cream, which she, in her eyes, of course had. “Don’t be jealous now, any of you.” When she exclaimed that they shouldn’t be jealous, she looked directly at Hermione, and then at Harry, who both stuttered out responses. 

“I’m not…!”

“W-we aren’t…”

“Not that you shouldn’t be happy!”

“Yeah, congratulations!” 

Harry glanced at Draco as he stuttered out barely coherent words, as Hermione was doing her best to not look at anyone. Parkinson looked even more satisfied as she reached out to fill her boyfriend’s cup with some of his favorite drink, which he thanked her for doing. 

Behind the two partners, Goyle leaned forward. “I’m Goyle. Hi.” He waved, as Luna waved back. 

“Hi Goyle. What a cool name you have.” She lowered her hand before reaching out to fill her plate with the strangest looking food she could reach. Harry wondered if it was a matter of taste, or a life choice which made her pick the least appealing looking foods from the table. 

The feast continued on, with people speaking mostly about the Trimagus Tournament, before the Great Hall slowly began to empty of people. Harry and his fellow Slytherin returned to their dormitories while the Gryffindors and the lone Ravenclaw headed in different directions. The first day of Hogwarts was drawing to a close, and Harry was happy to fall onto his bed and roll in under the covers for a pleasant night’s rest. He didn’t have to wait long for sleep to claim him, as the food and the journey helped lull him to sleep almost as soon as he had lay down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Death Eaters**  
>  Voldemort's ideals have allured mages originating form all four Hogwarts Houses, thus the children of Death Eaters are not limited to Slytherin.
> 
>  **Legal age in the British mage community**  
>  The legal age where one is seen as an adult in the eyes of the law within the British mage community is 18. This roots itself in valued achievements to mages, and that the basic schooling at Hogwarts, where most mages would go as the British society grew, ends around the age of 17. To be seen as an adult, one must be fully educated to at least a basic degree. This is relevant for the Trimagus Tournament rules and inclusion of minors.
> 
>  **Newspaper articles**  
>  In short, we have rewritten or removed every article present in Rowling's series, as they generally did not meet even the lowest base criteria of how to write newspaper articles and/or magazine articles in the real world. 
> 
> There is an excessive amount of blaming individuals who should by no realistic means have any power over situations, slander, strange phrasings, and a level of informality which is almost astounding in its own. That is without even starting on abusing of minors, and the inconsistencies of quality writing in a major news source. We could not in good conscience pass any of the articles off as realistic. **If a Harry Potter canon article isn't replaced, it is safe to assume that it does not exist in this version.**
> 
>  _The Daily Prophet_ is partly Ministry/tax funded and partly paid per newspaper in our lore. It is the trusted major newspaper with a large monopoly within the business in the British mage community, making other smaller magazines have a hard time competing, even if certain small newspapers such as _The Quibbler_ can at the very least sustain themselves. This enforces certain standards, as trust is put into major newspapers.
> 
>  _Witch Weekly_ is a sub-branch of the same company and department, and has been renamed into _Mage Monthly_ in our work. This is because the community is so small that it inherently shouldn't be realistically achievable to publish a magazine with relevant and interesting information every week. It would be possible, but probably not very economically sustainable or profitable, and they would likely run out of interesting news rather quickly.
> 
>  **The Trimagus Tournament**  
>  As we create our lore, we repeatedly find ourselves in a situation where Rowling has created a concept with such extremes, that it does not realistically or economically work; one such concept is the Triwizard Tournament. Some noteworthy changes as of currently are: 
> 
> It has not existed as long in time, as society and the mage society hasn't been stagnantly the same, and takes historical changes into consideration. 
> 
> The program is first and foremost an exchange program where students from the upper years will study abroad at the school currently hosting the event. Thus the amount of students brought along will be a little more limited as well, and they will be integrated with different classes and take them along the Hogwarts students 6th year upwards. This gives a better footing and make useful international connections within the mage community. 
> 
> The tournament was still disbanded when a child (an older minor) died during a game, which was a one time event, as children aren't supposed to play in death games to begin with.
> 
> The past events were not as grand or big as the one which will take place in this book. The tournaments were by far smaller, simpler, and thus could be hosted just between the schools themselves. There was no grand prize money. Speaking of which, a source suggests that 1000 Galleons should equal around £5000, and there is no reasonable way of accessing and randomly handing out this amount of money every fifth year, or even fifteenth year, in these small communities. The Triwizard Tournament makes no sense regarding economics and resources. 
> 
> This year, the British Ministry of Magic has elected to revive this tournament, and have worked towards it with the French and Bulgarian Ministries. The British Ministry is attempting to take what used to be a regular school tournament, turning it into a major event with paid tickets to visit the three trials. Thus the prize money, albeit a smaller more leveled sum, is provided by the Ministry. 
> 
> This is a political move, as international sports often is, to rekindle bonds and to show off strength and ability to host such an event internationally, after the recent civil mage war and even more recent failures at Hogwarts and within the community. Festivities and such events are a sign of economic and societal stability.


	6. Chapter 5 - In which Pansy Parkinson’s morning jog is interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What classes do you have today?” Lovegood looked up at Ron, who was busy covering his piece of bread with as much jam as he possibly could. 
> 
> “Oh, uh, I… I have…” He looked for his schedule but found that his hands were covered in jam, which made him unable to touch anything without jamifying it. 
> 
> “Arithmancy.” Hermione confirmed about herself. 
> 
> Blaise responded without lifting his head. “As do I.” 
> 
> “Keb for magickkall kreturss.” Nott spoke into the table. 
> 
> “Don’t you have Divination with me, Ron?” Neville asked, looking to his friend. 
> 
> “Oh no, I switched.” The red haired teenager looked up from his sandwich bottomed jam breakfast. “I couldn’t stand her crazy talk anymore, also, I’m tired of being proclaimed a walking dead. I either have Care for Magical Creatures or my first Muggle Studies class.” 

Harry reached for the big teapot which stood in the middle of the table, pulling it closer to himself before lifting it and pouring himself a cup of tea, his eyes sleepily drifting over his friends. Next to him, Draco stretched his arms over his head, making Harry notice yet again how much taller the other was, even when sitting. Hermione was half nodding over her cup of tea opposite the two of them, as Neville and Ron both reached for the same piece of bread, which they both then tried to surrender to the other. Nott was lying face down on the table, he might have fallen asleep again, while Blaise read his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ next to his fallen comrade. Crabbe, Parkinson and Goyle sat a little away, they weren’t avoiding their group of friends, but they seemed to have found another friend group who they wanted to sit with that morning. Goyle was struggling to keep his eyes open, while Crabbe and Parkinson had both resorted to the drink of power, poison, and promise: coffee. Nothing big had happened last night, they were all simply too used to their freedom after the summer break. Harry’s dad had once joked about it being harder to get up from bed the older one becomes, and Harry was fearing that he was beginning to feel it. Nott snored into the table. 

“Hello, hello.” Luna Lovegood’s voice came floating towards them, as did she. She sat down next to Ron, who scooted over to make space for her. She was carrying a large bookbag with her, which she placed between her feet under the table. 

“Hi.” Someone responded but Harry didn’t catch who. Most people by the table just nodded at her. 

“Snnnrrm.” Nott said. 

“Today again, I practice for the exchange. I have even looked up a few words in French and Bulgarian respectively.” The girl seemed to be the only one awake by the table.

“What words did you learn?” Draco politely asked. 

“I don’t know, I forgot them already.” The girl smiled softly, blinking at the blonde wizard like an owl. 

Draco gave her a strained smile, which she seemed to accept as genuine. 

“What classes do you have today?” She looked up at Ron, who was busy covering his piece of bread with as much jam as he possibly could. 

“Oh, uh, I… I have…” He looked for his schedule but found that his hands were covered in jam, which made him unable to touch anything without jamifying it. 

“Arithmancy.” Hermione confirmed about herself. 

Blaise responded without lifting his head. “As do I.” 

“Keb for magickkall kreturss.” Nott spoke into the table. 

“Don’t you have Divination with me, Ron?” Neville asked, looking to his friend. 

“Oh no, I switched.” The red haired teenager looked up from his sandwich bottomed jam breakfast. “I couldn’t stand her crazy talk anymore, also, I’m tired of being proclaimed a walking dead. I either have Care for Magical Creatures or my first Muggle Studies class.” 

“I have Muggle Studies.” Harry smiled at Lovegood over his cup, carefully blowing on it before drinking. “My first class, I switched too, as I realised Care for Magical Creatures wasn’t for me. I’ll have more use for these studies in the future, I think.” 

“I, too, switched from Magical Creatures to Ancient Runes.” Draco reached for a croissant, which he gave to Harry, before reaching for one of his own. The two of them had grown to know each other’s taste palette very well after being practically inseparable during the summer break. “I will be having Ancient Runes.” 

“I think Ginny is taking Ancient Runes, you might be in the same class.” Ron pointed out as he dried his fingers off with a napkin. “Harry, may I have some more tea?” He nodded towards the teapot. The son of a werewolf got to his feet, pouring his friend a cup, much to Ron’s appreciation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Honey, sugar, or milk?” Harry placed the kettle down. 

“I take my tea black.” Ron joked, causing Hermione to snort into her tea with laughter. 

“It would certainly be preferable if I was in the same class as someone familiar to me.” Draco bit into his croissant and swallowed before speaking again. “It’s not a necessity, but I think better if I have someone to debate with.” 

Harry used his cup to hide his smile, knowing well that Draco was looking at him. 

“I have Muggle Studies, we should be in the same class.” Lovegood looked towards Harry as she broke a chocolate muffin apart, only to dip it in milk and then eat it. 

“Great, then we can help each other with homework.” Harry smiled at her.

He might just be lenient towards her because she was another child of a werewolf, but he truly didn’t mind her weirdness on a personal level. It appeared to him that the girl was lonely, and that her quirkiness was just her way of keeping herself entertained.

The Great Hall was beginning to empty as people finished their breakfasts and began walking off towards their classes. Harry and Draco both rose, as did Lovegood. Their classes were in roughly the same direction, while being the complete opposite of Care for Magical Creatures. Blaise left Nott to his fate as he stood and joined Hermione, the two of them leaving together. 

“Mr. Lupin! Mr. Lupin!” A voice called his name before the three of them could leave the Great Hall. 

Harry turned around to find Colin Creevy, the photography happy boy who had been petrified by Secrets the Basilisk during his first year at Hogwarts. He had to retake the entire year, and was now two grades below Harry, rather than one. Harry couldn’t help but notice that the boy was holding his camera in his hands, or supposedly a new one, since his old one had been destroyed by her gaze. 

“Yes?” Harry looked the boy over, on guard should the boy raise his camera for a sneak photography. 

“Well, sir, I mean… I mean Mr. Lupin…” Creevy was twisting and turning his body, swaying about as he tried to contain his nervousness about speaking to the older student. “Well, I saw that your dad was in the newspaper this summer. A lot. I don’t know if you saw that bu-”

“Yes. Yes I did see that.” Harry concluded, feeling anxiety and discomfort creeping up on him as he watched the nervous boy in front of him. After all the uncomfortable questions last spring, this was not how he wanted to start his year, he felt like everyone in the Great Hall was looking at him and Creevy. Of course, they weren’t, but Harry still experienced their phantom eyes on him. 

“Ah, well, I thought you oughta hear from me, that not everyone is buying into that werewolf slander!” Creevy suddenly spoke with force, his little fists balled to his sides as he looked up at Harry in a burst of courage. “In fact, he was a great Professor! I’m putting together a petition for students to sign, so that after Mr. Moody resigns when this year is over, the school will see that we really want Professor Lupin back. It’s a Muggle thing, you have people sign their names on a list to prove a point, then you show it to people in charge, and they will have to make a change.”

Harry raised his hand over his mouth, then let out a weak noise, before moving forward, capturing the little Gryffindor in his arms and hugged him. The boy turned bright red, but froze in Harry’s arm like he had somehow managed to hit the stop button on the squirming boy. 

“Thank you.” Harry pulled back, uttering a breathless expression of gratitude. “I’ll make sure to sign it… Dad will be overjoyed… Haah, thank you.” He continued speaking breathlessly, his joy so overwhelming that it was hard to speak in the first place. 

“Y-y-you’re we-e-elcome…” Creevy blushed still, avoiding Harry’s eyes before laughing nervously. At least he didn’t seem upset or uncomfortable with the sudden hug, which Harry had to admit had been a little careless. He had simply been swept away by emotion and forgotten himself.  
  
“I’ll gather as many names as I can… just you wait, Mr. Lupin! I’ll make you happy!” The boy exclaimed loudly before he more or less ran away, hurrying off to whatever class he was called to. 

Harry, Draco and Lovegood looked after him. 

“He’s most definitely crushing on you.” Draco chuckled. 

Harry’s cheeks heated. “He is not!” He objected. 

“I truly do think that he likes you.” Lovegood confirmed, nodding alongside the blonde wizard. 

“Just a hug, and you got him wrapped around your pinky.” Draco waved his hand, spinning his finger slowly and methodically, his charming smile beaming at Harry as he spoke, his back straight and his posture proud. 

Harry pretended to bite after the finger, to which the blonde wizard only laughed. They were interrupted by the sound of the clock striking, signalling to all of them that they were late for class. The three exchanged looks, before beginning to run towards their respective lessons. 

“Good morning, students, and welcome to your first year of Muggle Studies. We have an older student with us this year, welcome, welcome. I’m Professor Charity Burbage, I will be your guide through all things Muggle.” The teacher of the class was a small, blonde woman, whose hair had begun to turn grey and whose face was a canvas of wrinkles all of which moved upwards as she smiled, making for a very pleasant expression of kindness. 

Harry was slightly uncomfortable to have been called out as older than the rest, but the class was very small, so he could see why she gave him the extra attention. With this small a class, the students a year younger would likely easily identify him as older than them, thus it was better to dissolve the mysticism immediately. He smiled and nodded politely at her, which seemed to make her happy. 

“You may stop me at any time, should you have any questions. I shall begin with asking you all a very simple straightforward question: in what way are mages divided by our society?” Professor Burbage stopped by her blackboard, waiting for someone to raise their hand. 

A student in the front was given the word. “Pureblood, Fullblood, Half-Blood, and, uh, Muggleborn. Squibs too, I guess.” She might have been about to say something inappropriate, but managed to stop herself from using any crude terms. 

“Excellent.” The woman wrote on the board. “Now these all relate back to your blood status, as I am sure you all know. My next question is: what category system does the Muggles use to distinguish one another?” 

Nobody raised their hand as Professor Burbage waited patiently. 

“See,” she began, with a glint in her eye. “The Muggles have been known to categorise themselves after many different things, sex, heritage, skin color, and so on, yet they have repeatedly agreed that categorising people is generally a bad thing, and has seen negative effects on society through the ages. We shall discuss further why this is a negative thing later on. In this class, and at this level, we will distinguish between Muggles and mages, for the sake of allowing you to follow more clearly, but in the end, we are all human beings. Now let me tell you that it has stated that there are ten times more Muggles than mages in the world.” She paused for effect as the young mages looked between one another, surprised to have had their existence put into perspective against the Muggles. 

“If the global Muggle population was about 5 billion then it would mean that the mage population was 500 million, these numbers aren’t entirely proven, but they are a good estimation. Depending on interpretations, as sources are stating rather different numbers, the total world population of mages would be 0.01% to 0.29%. Needless to say, we mages are a minority, and still we act as if we are not. As if we are the elite about the masses, who need not concern ourselves with the everyday life of Muggles, as it does not affect us or our society.”  
  
“I’m here to educate you about how and why Muggle society does affect mage society, and how we will only lose in locking ourselves away from Muggles, because we do not have the means by which to become self-sustaining, as that would be both economically and societally devastating to us. In this class, you will learn about Muggles, how to coexist with Muggles, and why it is essential that we continue our further symbiosis alongside them, and do not allow prejudice from a long passed age to negatively influence our lifestyles today. Everyone, open your textbooks to page five, and we will read together.”

As the students began to open their books, Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself. He already liked Professor Burbage. He found himself enjoying her one lesson more than he had ever enjoyed Care for Magical Creatures altogether. As he turned to page five, he imagined Draco in the same classroom, fighting his long inherited biases and beliefs for the sake of learning. He smiled yet again, as he opened Draco’s copy of _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ by Wilhelm Wigworthy, which he had been given as he stated to his friend that he was switching to Muggle Studies. On the first page, he saw that certain sentences had been underlined, alongside his friend’s handwriting, noting things of interest. One note was just an exclamation mark, which Harry found utterly adorable. 

Further, the lesson itself made Harry consider a fact which he had previously not thought of, namely that mage societies had to look very different from one another depending on what country the society was located in. Surely, Britain wasn’t some kind of mould which every other mage society strived to mimic or live up to. Instead, what Harry found normal, other mages from different countries must find curious or even strange. It wasn’t something he had thought of before, yet the realisation felt highly natural once he had thought of it. However, the lesson was continuing, so he did not have the time to muse about differences between mage societies, instead returning to the present, and Draco’s notes. 

The next lesson was Potions with Professor Snape. Harry and his group of friends divided themselves up around the tables for three, whereas Draco quickly captured Hermione for his and Harry’s group, leaving Neville and Ron to share their table with Nott, who seemed to have woken up enough that he wouldn’t unintentionally blow his cauldron up. Then again, Nott had made small explosions occur intentionally when he was wide awake too, which made it hard to really trust him when it came to, well, anything. 

Professor Snape strode into the classroom, as he always did the first day, his long black robes flowing after him as he headed for the center of the classroom, turning around towards his class once he reached his chalkboard. He glanced over the students in the room, his eyes settling on Harry. Unlike previous years, there was a calm to the man’s expression as their eyes met, and Harry was so very used to the man’s presence at that point that he didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated by him, unlike many of his fellow students who claimed the man’s gaze to be immensely frightening. Harry smiled up at his Professor, who didn’t per say smile back, but didn’t look particularly displeased with him either, just stoic as ever. 

“Your tie has come undone, Mr. Lupin.” The Potions Master stated in a casual manner, his words clearly meant to merely be helpful and not scolding, before he began writing on the board. His words left Harry to grapple with his tie until Draco took pity on him and reached out to assist him. When the Professor turned back, the tie was once more corrected. 

Professor Snape nodded before addressing the class, beginning by giving them all a summary of what they could expect from the coming year, and what would be expected of them in return. Most of the lesson consisted of going through the curriculum for the year, as well as the assignments, that is to say what recipes of potions, the students should focus on specifically as they were likely to be on the exam. Thanks to the structure of the lesson, Nott didn’t have the chance to blow anything up that day, either unintentionally or intentionally.

And so the lessons passed, leading the collective student body of Hogwarts towards the first weekend of the study year. They had only had about half a week’s study to start with, but the weekend was more than welcome in Harry’s opinion. 

Harry was woken up by Draco, who gently shook him from his blissful slumber in a way which made Harry not quite want to bite him for stealing his sleep from him. He sat up and fumbled for his glasses, which were given to him by his friend, who knew well what he was searching for. Once he had his glasses on, he could see that Crabbe’s bed was empty, as was Draco’s, but since the teenager was standing next to him, Harry didn’t need to worry about where he was. Blaise and Goyle were fast asleep in their respective beds. 

“Is there a problem?” Harry whispered. In reality, his inquiry sounded more like ‘hee heeere ah prublmm?’ but Draco had grown proficient in tired-Harry-speech, and figured out what he meant while the son of a werewolf sleepily blinked at him with his head to the side and his hair sprouting in different, gravity defying angles. 

“No, no problem,” Draco assured him. “I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me this morning, before it gets too crowded out there?”

“Out there?” Harry’s words became more coherent as he strongly considered sliding back down under the covers again. 

“Yeah, if you’d like to. Otherwise, I’ll go alone.” Draco shrugged, trying to appear as if he wasn’t invested in having Harry come with him on his morning walk. The two had been together for most of the summer, so to be alone or away from one another had begun to feel unnatural to both of them. 

“I’m coming…” Harry nodded, pulling the covers to the side as he mentally prepared himself to exit his blissful little cocoon of pleasant but not overbearing warmth. 

Draco smiled at him, that type of small, gentle smile which wasn’t so much joyful as it was pleased. It was a soft expression which made Harry feel a strange impulse to wrap his arms around the other teenager’s neck and yank him into the blankets and hug him. Possibly something more. Harry quickly patted his cheeks, trying to mask his emotions behind the overdramatic and exaggerated gesture which was meant to look like something he did to wake himself up. 

Harry hurriedly got dressed, then joined his friend as Draco exited their dormitory. The two had planned on immediately heading towards the exit of the common room, but they found themselves halted in their tracks as they found Crabbe, Parkinson and Nott in the room. Nott was curled together on one of the sofas, hugging himself. His face was pale, his eyes wet and his breathing slightly erratic. He seemed to be in great pain, weak whimpers leaving his lips from time to time. Parkinson and Crabbe were dressed in clothes which made it clear that they had planned on heading outside to work out, but had likely been stopped by finding Nott in the common room. Crabbe was sitting next to him, stroking his back, while Parkinson stood to the side, looking uncomfortable, confused, and a little guilty. 

Harry and Draco wasted no time in hurrying over to them, both teenagers feeling great worry over the way Nott appeared. 

“What has happened?” Draco spoke up first as they reached the sofa. They were all alone in the common room that morning, which made his voice appear loud and intrusive in the cold room despite the fact that he wasn’t shouting. 

Nott whimpered, looking up at Draco and Harry with a desperate and sad look on his face, before another wave of pain caused him to gasp and curl together further, hugging his stomach tighter. 

“Should I go get a teacher? Madam Pomfrey?” Draco added, looking over at the other two. His eyes seemed to blame them for not having gone to get one already. 

Meanwhile, Harry leaned down next to Nott to touch his forehead, concluding that the teenager had a fever. He wasn’t too surprised, but it added to his worry. 

To all their surprise, Nott was the one to respond in a whimper. “I’m fine… It’s normal…” 

The three young men stared at him, while Parkinson bit her lower lip and looked to the side, the guilt more evident on her face. 

Crabbe stroked over Nott’s back once more, carefully pressing against it with his large fingers. He found a spot which made Nott cry out in pain. After pulling back automatically, Crabbe returned his fingers to the spot, beginning to gently massage the sore spot. “Nott, let us at least take you to our dorm. You shouldn’t suffer like this out here, or someone really will call a teacher.” Crabbe’s voice was soft, gentle even. “You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to, but at least let us help you.” His dark voice sounded very soothing as he spoke, his fingers gently massaging Nott’s back still, which seemed to both increase and ease the boy’s pain. 

Nott hesitated, but another wave of pain caused him to yield. He nodded, then attempted to sit up. His pain didn’t allow him to, but luckily for him, Crabbe had already foreseen that the teenager wasn’t getting up on his own, thus bent down to help him by simply lifting him up and carrying the shivering Nottling towards their dormitory. Harry, Draco and Parkinson followed, the two young men exchanging worried looks, although something about Draco’s expression made it appear as if some manner of understanding had come to him, while Harry was utterly clueless. 

Crabbe wasn’t especially careful in kicking open the door to their dormitory, which woke both Goyle and Blaise, who both sat up in a confused flurry of limbs, blankets, and in Blaise’s case, rejuvenating face masks and other natural, non-damaging to the skin, skin products. Both young men looked more than a little confused as Crabbe placed Nott down upon his own bed, and began by handing him a pillow to hug, which Nott latched onto like a greedy racoon. 

“What is happening…?” Goyle mumbled as he half tumbled from his bed, walking towards the group who was gathering around Nott. 

Blaise joined them as well, but not before he had removed his face mask from his face. Some of the oils were still coating his skin, making him appear shiny and otherworldly. Harry was once more reminded of how beautiful he found Blaise, but when the teenager was standing next to Draco, despite all of Blaise’s pleasant features, Harry’s eyes were irreparably drawn towards the blonde wizard, shyly peeking at Draco from under his own eyelashes while his heart whispered colorful descriptions of the blonde teenager’s beauty, which were so utterly cheesy that Shakespeare himself would have found them too overbearing. Luckily for Harry, he was yanked away from his romantic thoughts by his worry for Nott, who had just been unable to suffocate a sob. 

“I’m not… hurting.” Nott half growled, half whimpered at them, his eyes wet with pain. “I’m not in pain.” He lied, whispering the words as a mantra to himself. 

Draco knelt next to the teenager in the bed, he had definitely figured out something which Harry hadn’t. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but not patronising. “Nott, if you are hurting, you shouldn’t just endure it. That doesn’t make you strong, it only hurts you. Nobody will think less of you for being in pain, as it is not your fault.” 

Harry realised what was going on then, as he heard Draco argue with the suffering teenager. Nott was a person who prided himself in always being happy and wild, who didn’t want to admit that he had problems, and who clung to his mental image of himself to the point where he rejected the idea that he might have needs outside of what he wanted himself to have. To be in pain, or rather, to be perceived as weak in any manner, was likely something Nott violently rejected. Harry had seen him try to speak about heavier subjects, such as Nott’s own father, only to have the teenager hastily break the conversation in favour of pretending that it never happened. As it was now, Nott was hurting, and he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t hurting, and it was clearly breaking him apart both mentally and physically. Harry felt a pang of sadness in his chest, he couldn’t quite understand why at that moment, but the reason as to why he felt guilty was because he found the whole idea of Nott finding pain to be the better solution to asking for help ultimately destructive and endlessly sad. 

“I’m not hurting.” Nott sobbed, curling together further around the pillow as big tears began to roll down his cheeks. He shook his head and hid in the pillow. “I’m not hurting… I’m not… Oh Merlin, it hurts so much.” His muffled voice rose from the pillow as his shoulders shook with his sobs. 

A few of the teenagers exchanged looks with one another, Blaise looked uncomfortable, but also like he had had an understanding of some kind. Goyle looked like he wanted to hug Nott, but was trying hard to not overstep his boundaries. 

“Would you tell us what is wrong?” Draco gently coaxed Nott as he stroked over his head. “We can’t help you if you don’t let us.” With the way Draco said it, it sounded like they really could help Nott. This confirmed to Harry that Draco really did know something which he did not. Further, it appeared to him that Crabbe, Blaise and Parkinson knew what was wrong as well, leaving Harry and Goyle as the unknowing party. 

“And we do want to help you.” Harry hurriedly added, causing everyone gathered to nod with purpose as Nott glanced at them with sad, nervous eyes. 

Nott hesitated for a little longer, before glancing at Draco once more, confirming in his eyes that his pain really wasn’t a weakness which would make them all dislike him or think less of him. Draco smiled at him, a smile which made Harry unrighteously jealous because he desired that smile for himself. The impulse was so strong that it shocked Harry, and it made him feel so guilty that he didn’t find himself able to look at either Draco or Nott. 

Unbeknownst to the fourteen year old teenager, thoughts tended to be tricky things, and many people thought things which they didn’t mean, followed by shock, disgust, fear, or worry as a reaction to that thought. It was usually the reaction to the thought which was the person’s true feelings, while the stray thought itself was simply the product of processing a concept or an idea which didn’t natively or originally belong in the person's mind. Harry had yet to learn of this, thus, he felt guilty about his jealous stray thought, rather than realised that the reaction he was experiencing currently was a more honest reflection of his true feelings and personality. 

Nott took a shaky breath, then admitted to what was hurting him. “I’ve gotten my period…” The young man told them. “It hurts so bad. I always knew it wasn’t going to be, like, fine, but I didn’t think it would be this bad. My stomach is all messed up, my back is hurting like… so much, and my ankles are aching. I can’t even walk… I was just going to go hide away somewhere but I couldn’t make it out of the common room.” He looked back down again, shamefully curling together around the pillow which was wet with his tears. Not because he was ashamed of his period, but because he was ashamed over what it did to him physically and mentally. “And I’m just… sad. So sad. I’m never sad, and my period is like, ‘nope, you’re sad now. I don’t care what you want, time to bawl like a lonely puppy.’” 

Draco nodded with understanding. “Yeah, my father gets really bad period cramps as well, so I recognised your symptoms.” He wasn’t stating it like he was a clever sleuth who had figured something out despite the odds, but a person who recognised a friend suffering from something he knew his parent to be suffering from as well. “I happen to know a few tricks to help ease the pain, my father taught them to me in preparation for my future partner, if you don’t want to take any potions for it.” 

Harry tried to not be distracted by the way that his friend said ‘future partner.’ It made him remember that no matter who Draco might come to love in the future, he was still expected to have a blood heir. Harry could already tell that he wasn’t comfortable with the path which those thoughts might bring him down so he hastily put a halt to them. He was fourteen, and experiencing hormonal changes in his body which all pulled him towards his best friend with an irresistible allure, but that didn’t mean that a simple crush would ensure a future as Draco’s partner. Besides, Harry had yet to admit that he was even possibly crushing on Draco in the first place. 

“No potions… M-maybe later, I don’t know if all of them are going to be this bad and I don’t want to overreact.” Nott mumbled, his face still pale and his breathing erratic. 

“First of all,” Draco was in his element now. He might have become somewhat shy when it came to expressing an opinion without having all the facts, however, that did not mean that he had stopped expressing his opinions, or stopped sharing information which he knew to be true with the people around him. Yet, he was far from the eleven year old child who had blurted out his opinions as facts without thinking about it, and a far nicer person to be around because of it. In fact, the person Draco had once been was so very different from the person he currently was that they weren’t even comparable. “Warmth helps, you have a very good idea with the pillow, but body heat is another great help, according to my father.” 

Goyle stepped forward, with more purpose than he had ever had in his life, spreading his arms as he did. “My time has come.” He announced as he looked down at Nott. “I’m warm and I’m soft, if you are alright with it, I’ll keep you warm in turn.”

“Please.” Nott weakly croaked, looking up at the taller teenager with thankful eyes. 

Goyle took up position in Crabbe’s bed, which the latter didn’t show any sign of minding, and captured Nott in his arms, wrapping his arms around the smaller teenager’s stomach. Nott whimpered once more, his expression turning blissful as he sank into Goyle’s arms, his aching back was soothed by the warmth of another body, and the heavy arms and hot hands pressed down upon his hurting stomach. It was clear that he was already feeling a little better, even if it didn’t save him from his pain completely. 

“Further, you should be drinking and eating and not just stop because of the pain. You are likely to become dehydrated while this is happening to your body, so you should seek to drink a lot of water, or eat food with high water measured, like watermelon or cucumber or things like that. As you are losing blood, leafy green vegetables such as kale and spinach can boost your iron levels, spinach is also rich in magnesium. Added to that, A warm mug of ginger tea can improve certain symptoms of period pain. Ginger has anti-inflammatory effects, which can soothe achy muscles, ginger may also reduce nausea, although one should be careful not to eat too much of it or the ginger might cause some side effects like heartburn and stomach aches. My father has found that hot raspberry tea helps him, but I don’t know if that is helpful for everyone.” Draco rambled, although everyone clung to his words as he seemed knowledgeable on the subject. 

“Strawberries are good to eat as well, as they help the iron intake after the loss of blood. Other than that, there is the classical dark chocolate as it is rich in iron and magnesium, which will help ease many period cramps symptoms.” Draco finished, concluding his story with a nod as he turned towards his friends. 

“Crabbe and Parkinson, would you head upstairs and grab some fruit from the breakfast table, as well as a cup of hot raspberry tea for Nott?” The two nodded as Draco asked them to help their fellow classmate. “Harry, do you have any dark chocolate? The darker the better, I’d say.” 

Harry nodded in turn. “Of course. Dad and I abhor milk chocolate in the first place.” He hurried over to his bag to search for the promised chocolate. 

Draco turned to Blaise. “I think I remember you having a heat-up pillow? Do you mind sharing it with Nott for the moment?” 

“Of course not.” Blaise assured him as he turned towards his own part of the room to go find the pillow. It was one of those items which was meant for easing back or neck pain, it was heated up by a simple, magical command. Blaise often heated it up and placed it around his shoulders after showering, or applied it after a particularly long day. However, the warm pillow would likely be just as useful to Nott as he suffered from his period cramps. 

Needless to say, the entire dormitory ended up fussing over their friend, and worked together to ensure his well being. Nott found it embarrassing, and probably a little shameful, but he was so badly off from the pain that he surrendered to it and allowed himself to indulge in their help. Harry got him chocolate, Blaise got him the warm pillow, and Crabbe and Parkinson returned with a plate full of fresh fruit and a steaming cup of hot tea. They briefly mentioned that nobody had minded them taking the items out of the Great Hall as they pulled Crabbe’s nightstand closer to their position in the bed so that Nott could eat. On the plate was a muffin for Goyle, which Crabbe gave him alongside the statement that he did not want to get crumbs in his bed. Goyle understood perfectly. Their collective care made Nott cry again, but they all secretly agreed that it was probably good for him to not hold his feelings back. They weren’t likely to always do this for Nott, as that frankly wouldn’t really work with their own lives and schedules, but that day, there was nothing stopping them from looking after their friend’s well being. 

“Nott?” Draco spoke his name as the teenager drank his raspberry tea, which, judging by the way his expression eased into less pained and less pale, was helping. 

Nott looked up at him, leaning his head to the side, wordlessly asking what the blonde wizard wanted. 

“You should speak with someone in your dormitory so that they can help you if you find yourself in a situation where you can’t move or do things because of your period cramps. I think I can state for a fact that none of us would mind helping you, but you shouldn’t have to have to make it all the way here just to get help.” Draco finished. 

Nott licked his lips. “Yeah… I have a friend I can ask. I just didn’t want to bother him, or anyone with this… But I guess he wouldn’t mind helping me.” The suffering boy concluded. 

“One more thing?” Draco added, causing Nott to look at him again with a confused frown. “From what I understand, it is normal that period cramps cause a person pain, and that can be quite some pain for some people, but it’s not normal if it continues for days and is always unbearably painful. If it so happens that your period continues to be insufferable like this without easing up at all, you have to speak to Madam Pomfrey because something might be wrong. I’m not saying that you must get potion help against your pain, but if something is wrong, you shouldn’t just ignore it. There is help to receive, and it does not make you weak or abnormal if you accept it.” 

Nott nodded. “Fine… fine. Okay. If it so happens, I will go talk with her, but as I said, I don’t wanna overreact. This is my first period after all, and it might not be like this always. I hope.” He looked wistful as he spoke the last words, and slightly worried. 

“Nott?” Parkinson finally spoke up for the first time that day. She looked nervous and guilty still, her eyes darting around the room, not focusing on Nott but on everything and anything she got her eyes on which wasn’t part of her classmate’s body. “I’m… sorry. I always thought that all other girls in my dormitory were just playing their pain up to get affection and attention and… stuff like that.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “I guess I needed a boy to help me see that they might… actually be in that much pain. My period isn’t that bad, sure, it hurts, but not that much. Since, you know, boys don’t tend to play up their pain to get chocolate for free.” She summarised as her face began to heat. 

Behind her, Crabbe looked proud over his girlfriend. It stood to reason that he had had a hand in making her speak up about her problems, although she most assuredly shouldn’t be apologising to Nott, but to the people she might have hurt, if any, with her misguided opinion. Her idea that it was impossible for boys to play things up for attention was misguided as well, as things like that really wasn’t so much because of a person’s gender, but because of the person in question. However, she was already pushing the limits of her own personality, and it wasn’t fair of Harry to push her harder when she was already straining. Maybe he could help her see that the idea was misguided in the future, but today, right now, was not the time to do so. Maybe she’d even figure it out on her own, maybe he’d never need to assist her. However, all of that was for the future, and not the present. 

Nott blinked at his classmate, looking every bit like a confused racoon as she apologised to him. “You don’t have to be sorry, but I guess I’m glad I could help you.” He returned her words with some manner of confused praise. 

Draco walked up to Harry, who was struck with the realisation of how dependable his best friend was. Not only had he helped Nott when he needed it, he had been able to make the stubborn teenager admit to being hurt, and then assisted him in getting better, both inside his head, as well as helping his body.

Harry didn’t know the first thing about periods or period cramps, because he lived in a household which consisted of him and his dad, and neither of them had been born with a body which was biologically cursed to live with the pain and blood which was a natural, yet painful and loathed part of many other people’s lives. It was a privilege of his, to never know the pain which Nott and people with similar body structures had to face within the course of their lives. While the whole concept seemed rather frightening, potentially disgusting, and looked very painful, and the concept itself weirded Harry out a little bit, he was rather sure that he shouldn't let himself think like that. Surely, it could be a disgusting experience, and the side effects might make a person feel disgusting for the moment, but it did not mean that they were disgusting for something they couldn’t help and which was natural to their bodies. If something was happening to half the population of people out there, it had to be considered normal, no matter if he himself experienced it or not. He only held sympathy for the people like Nott who had to go through worse pain than some others, and chose not to spend any more time thinking about it in-depth.

Harry was very happy that Draco had known enough to be able to help their struggling friend, because he knew that there was nothing he himself knew which could have helped Nott. He made a promise to himself that he would never object to or mind someone needing chocolate from him for the sake of easing their pain, no matter how little he might have left. Not because he needed to, or was obliged to, but because it was what he would have wanted in the same situation. 

Draco touched his hands, the cold, slender fingers gently brushing against the back of Harry’s hand to capture his attention. The green eyed teenager jumped slightly, as he pulled his hand to himself, not because he wanted to get away from Draco, but because he wanted to do the opposite a little too much. So much that it scared him slightly. 

If Draco had been displeased or satisfied or anything in between, it didn’t show on his face. He spoke as if nothing had changed, addressing Harry with the same usual familiarity and pleasant voice as he always did. “How about taking that walk now?” 

“Oh, yeah, walk!” Harry’s own voice was too loud in his ears. Not in the same way as when he was overwhelmed by sound and noises, but in a way which made it clear to himself that he had spoken louder than necessary. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Crabbe and Parkinson glanced at him before they excused themselves to finally go have their postponed morning workout. Harry and Draco left soon after them, leaving Nott, Goyle and Blaise alone in the dormitory. As they left, Blaise asked what Goyle would like to eat, offering to make sure that the three of them got to eat breakfast. 

The morning air was not quite the crisp, wet touch which Harry had expected when he exited Hogwarts. Instead, the morning was warm and welcoming without being suffocatingly warm. Harry and Draco walked together along the shoreline of the lake, speaking calmly to one another while a few students jogged passed them. Harry found himself searching their faces for Marcus Flint or Oliver Wood, only to then recall that the two of them had already finished school. 

Harry and Draco walked for health reasons, as they had many times during the summer. Still, Harry got the impression that the blonde wizard wanted to jog or work out more than he wanted to simply walk, despite the fact that he had invited Harry to come with him in the first place. He wondered if there was anything Draco wanted to speak to him about, but he didn’t mention anything. Instead, they simply trudged on as the warm summer morning heating their cheeks, and the lake next to them appearing so very still that even Harry had to admit that it was beautiful and serene. Despite Nott’s earlier trouble, their day turned out to be a calm one, one which Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville and Ron spent most of outside in the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Muggle Studies**  
>  A note that the curricular activities and content of the Muggle Studies have been created for this series to make a real and valuable subject which would be taught in a classroom, and thus may not reflect to what canon installments claim the subject to be like. While the value of different subjects are often discussed within teaching in general, there will still be proper curriculums, and people passionate about teaching their subject, thus the same has been applied to Muggle Studies.
> 
>  **Changing classes**  
>  When it comes to optional subjects and classes where students pick out of a list, it is often possible to switch between classes if they find reasons to not want to continue with a certain class. 
> 
> Harry, Ron and Draco will likely have to take a summer course at some point if they want full grades in all the different levels of their newly elected subjects, but changing non-mandatory subjects is not unusual in most real school systems, and thus it seemed strange if it would have been impossible at Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 6 - In which the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher proves to indeed be slightly mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth year Slytherin students and the Gryffindor students were having Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and there was an air of nervousness and sadness in the classroom. It appeared to the son of a werewolf that some people were already missing Professor Lupin, and found themselves slightly disappointed now that reality had caught up with fact and they knew that the werewolf would not be there with, or for, them that year. Other than those hints of sadness, there was the general nervousness of having a new teacher and not knowing what to expect from a man with a nickname which included the colorful description of ‘mad.’ 

The weekend passed rather calmly, and luckily, it seemed that Nott’s pain wasn’t constant, but at its worst a few hours back and forth over the weekend. Days passed, and the time had come for their first lesson with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody.

The fourth year Slytherin students and the Gryffindor students were having his classes together, and there was an air of nervousness and sadness in the classroom. It appeared to the son of a werewolf that some people were already missing Professor Lupin, and found themselves slightly disappointed now that reality had caught up with fact and they knew that the werewolf would not be there with, or for, them that year. Other than those hints of sadness, there was the general nervousness of having a new teacher and not knowing what to expect from a man with a nickname which included the colorful description of ‘mad.’ 

They heard him before they saw him. There was a prominent and ominous sound from somewhere, which seemed to rattle the beams above the students’ heads. Then it repeated, over and over, until they were able to identify the sound of Moody’s wooden leg and his staff. The man appeared by the blackboard, nobody was quite sure when he arrived there, or if he had walked past them at all, yet he was suddenly there, present, and terrifying to look upon. Not because of his appearance, but because he regarded the students in front of him with deep and seething distrust, as if they were the vilest of scum to have been locked away in Azkaban for their crimes against the British mage society. Harry remembered that he overheard the Weasley twins celebrate Moody as the coolest teacher who they had ever had, and he immediately felt less safe. Judging by the air in the room, he wasn’t alone in feeling frightened. 

“Fourth years, eh?” Moody spoke, his voice as crude as his appearance, yet his words clear and strong, echoing in the classroom which should have belonged to Harry’s dad had the world not rebelled against the idea. “Slytherins and Gryffindors, here together, huh. Bet the lot of you have thought lots of unpleasant things about one another.” 

The class shifted and glanced across their imagined House borders, with some people accidentally glancing at another specific person. Draco and Ron locked eyes before quickly looking away, neither of them comfortable to have glanced at the other. There was a murmur in the classroom, while young, scared and inexperienced students were forced to feel guilt over a behavior which had been forced into them by society without them noticing. Harry did not think that he was going to enjoy the teacher-student experience with Moody as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. 

Harry and Draco had elected to sit with Goyle that day, as Crabbe and Parkinson were sitting with one of her female friends. It hadn’t been a particularly big decision, it simply came naturally as they didn’t know what to expect of the new teacher and thus adapted to the traditional behaviours of the two Houses staying on one side of the classroom each. When Alastor Moody spoke as if he knew that every single one of them hated one another for being in different Houses, Harry felt a strange sense of disgust, making him regret him and Draco not having chosen the alleged Gryffindor side that very lesson, if only to prove the man wrong. Maybe the man wasn’t entirely wrong, but they weren’t eleven anymore, and a lot of them knew better, had learnt better. For Moody to discredit that altogether to accuse the lot of them just made it feel like he wanted them to be guilty for things they weren’t actually guilty of. Making every single student guilty for something not all of them participated in surely couldn’t be a good idea, his dad would never do such a thing. 

After making all his students turn uncomfortably in their seats for about a minute, Moody spoke up once more: “such thoughts aren’t going to get you to Azkaban, so you might as well calm down again. Can anyone tell the class any of the three curses, or one of the forbidden charm or spell respectively, that gets you a one way ticket to Azkaban, or earn you a less than tender kiss from a Dementor’s plucky lips? One answer per person, one curse per mouth.” His mad-eye spun in his head, burying into them like a searchlight seeking a guilty runaway. 

Hermione raised her hand, bravely taking the first steps towards communication, much to everyone else’s relief. She was given the word as Moody pointed at her with his staff, one eye on her while the other one burned into Seamus Finnigan. “There is the, well, the… Killing curse.” She stated. 

“Correct.” Behind him, a piece of chalk sprung to life, and began writing on the black board. It wrote the title of the curse as well as the incantation for it. 

A murmur passed through among the students as they realised that they had just technically been taught Dark Arts by their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Moody ignored them. “Another!” He roared before pointing at a female Gryffindor student who jumped with fear. 

“Ah, uh, I-Imperius Clause, I mean Curse!” She spoke, her entire expression one akin to a hunted animal. 

“...” Moody’s one brown eye glazed over for a good five seconds, as he became lost in what appeared to be deep thoughts. Behind him, the piece of chalk wrote on the board, spelling out the name of the curse and the word with which to cast it. Suddenly, he snapped back again, nodding his large head at the teenager’s answer. “Next.” His voice was not quite as strong as he turned towards his students again, pointing at one of them to demand an answer from him. 

He picked Neville to answer next, but what followed, nobody could really quite explain afterwards. 

Moody’s big staff pointed at Neville, who flinched, then spoke in a very small voice. “The… Cruciatus Curse… The torture curse…” He whispered, yet everyone in the room heard his words as clearly as if they had been whispered into their ear. 

Both of Moody’s eyes snapped to Neville, staring at him as the man’s face twisted into a look of surprise and recognition. The students may have their first lesson with the man, yet they could all tell that something was wrong if both of Moody’s eyes focused on one thing. The man slowly opened his mouth, his staff frozen in the air as the piece of chalk wrote on the board behind him, copying Neville’s words onto the blackboard. “You are… the Longbottoms’ son?” Moody asked in a gruff yet surprisingly emotional voice. Harry thought he saw his lower lip tremble slightly. 

Neville didn’t have the strength to do more than nod. 

Moody nodded in return, trying to catch himself. “I… I knew your parents. Good folks. Powerful, stubborn… proud.” His mad eye rolled backwards in his head, as if it wanted to look inside his own brain, or seek to hide from the world. Both seemed equally impossible, and equally strange. Moody remained silent for another two seconds, then pointed at Blaise with his staff. “You. Final forbidden curse?” 

Blaise was the only one to not jump, as it was beneath him in dignity. “The Memory Charm, also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, and the False Memory Spell, which are usually counted together.” 

Moody seemed a little upset that he listed both the charm and the spell, but he let it slide while Blaise’s answer was written on the blackboard. Moody began walking down the line between the benches, his heavy leg thudding against the ground alongside his staff as he spoke. “Now some of you will look at that board, and you will see all the forbidden curses, spell and charm which we as a society have deemed punishable by the gravest of punishment. That is death which I am speaking of. Either way, some of you will look at that, and you will have the realisation that I’ve just taught you Dark Arts.” 

His words caused a great number of students to start speaking over one another. 

Moody slammed his staff into the floor, earning silence as easily as that. “Some of you will feel tempted to use them, even. Some of you might, and earn yourself a one way ticket to what Muggles would call ‘Hell.’” He began circling the classroom as he lectured, the piece of chalk writing only the necessary or noteworthy part of his speech onto the board.

“Now here is where it gets very interesting for the lot of you. You can’t just say the curse and think that you can kill someone, or cast any of the memory spells and think that all you need is a stupid little word. No, for all of these curses written on that board, you cannot cast them without meaning it. Truly meaning it. Desire the outcome with all of your heart, mind and whatever is between those two. Why, you could all turn your silly little wands towards me and do your worst, and I would not even be knocked down, and my memory would be as fine as always. Long story short: you all couldn’t possibly cast the curses successfully, and the charm and the spell are both far beyond your level. However, should you think that is an invitation or a challenge, think again, if any of those syllables leaves your lips in the full fledged form of the words, you will nonetheless be sent to Azkaban.” 

Moody stopped at the front of his class once more, and spun towards them with his brown eye blazing at them, the other lost inside the cage of his skull. “Let’s begin with the big one, the Killing Curse. Straight forward deal, but nonetheless nasty. Death in two words. Nobody has ever survived it, except for one person, and he is sitting in this room.” Moody didn’t so much focus on Harry as much as he simply glanced at him before continuing on, not even bothering to point him out as an example. “I can guarantee you that every parent or adult in your lives has lost at least five people, friends, or family members to this curse. There is not a lot more to say about that one, thus, we move on. There is also the Cruciatus curse, or the Torture curse.” He skipped the Imperius curse for now, instead discussing the curse which had stolen Neville’s parents from him when he was but a baby. 

“As you can hear by the name,” Moody continued to walk around the room as he spoke, restlessly wandering between their benches and around them, reminding his students of a locked up animal with the way he was pacing. “The Torture Curse hurts people. Real bad. Makes you feel like your every bone, muscle, nerve and organ are on fire. It’s a very hard curse to cast, with even skilled mages using it to the effect of a burst of pain in their victim and nothing more. No, this nasty piece of work requires an even nastier mind to cast it. Perhaps even nastier than the Killing Curse.”

He halted by the window, and stared out over the Hogwarts grounds, then looked past them and towards the Forbidden Forest, his expression hidden from his students. Whatever it was he was looking at, it might not be in the present, or visible to anyone else. Still, nobody dared moving. 

Neville looked sick. He was paler than Harry had ever seen him before, even more than when he had faced his worst fears during the Boggart class last year. His arms had moved to his stomach, and he hugged himself, staring forward with a distant look. Whatever it was he saw in his inner eye, it was not something which did him any good. Harry wished that he could have reached out and helped him, but he was too far away, on the other side of the classroom, to be able to. Luckily, Hermione noticed as well, and she sneaked her hand to the teenager’s hand, squeezing it lightly. 

“Last of the curses,” Moody swung back at them with such speed that half the students nearly fell out of their seats. “Is the Imperius Curse. It penetrates the mind, makes you nothing but an obedient slave to the one who controls you. You take your free will for granted, yet the Imperius Curse will make you want to surrender control to the caster. This spell is particularly useful against people who don't want to make their own decisions, or those who have grown tired of life and want to go to sleep for a while. Depending on who you are, and in what time of life you are in, you might even welcome the embrace of this curse and the opportunity to let go of your mind. You kids should be comparatively resilient to it, but that doesn’t mean that you will be when you grow old and life has had a go at you.” 

Moody’s cruel eyes turned towards Draco, both of them rested on him before the blue eye rolled away once more. “Some people have been made to do horrible things under this curse, killing and maiming and serving the Dark Lord. While others have gotten away from such accusations by claiming that they only served the Dark Lord because they were under the Imperius Curse. Why, you Malfoys should know all about that. As would the rest of you Slytherins whose parents aren’t rotting in Azkaban. At least Nott is locked up where he belongs, while your father nimbly slunk away because of money.” The teacher towered over Harry, Draco and Goyle’s table, staring down at Draco with his dark eye while the blue one honed in on every Slytherin student who had ever had Death Eater accusations aimed at them or their family. Moody seemed to hate them all, but his hatred for Draco and his family seemed stronger than his hatred for the rest of the families. 

Moody’s crude comments about Death Eaters, and Death Eater children, hurt more than one student. He only targeted Slytherin students, making accusations towards them without even considering that there were students whose parents had supported the Dark Lord in other Houses as well. As his wrath was mostly aimed towards Draco, the young man took the brunt of his distaste. Many other students shrunk back from the blue eye.

Nott looked like he wanted to throw up, and Harry knew how much he hated his dad. Moody’s comment must have hurt him even more since Nott’s father was no longer locked away, but had returned to poison his son’s life. Nott had taken a stand against his father, and all his friends knew that, yet here was a teacher, locking the child to crimes which had been his fathers. Locking children to crimes and mistakes which were not theirs. 

To someone who didn’t know him, Draco might have appeared collected and proud. His posture was tense, his head lifted high and his eyes meeting Moody’s without any sign of fear. However, Harry knew his best friend far better than to be fooled by his collected appearance.

He knew that Draco had been trained to adapt the behaviour he was now displaying when he found himself in a tense situation which he didn’t know how to deal with. Keep proud, look collected, never show that they have touched something fragile within you, things such as those teachings had been part of Draco’s life as he grew up, and habits die hard. Draco couldn’t allow his fellow students, or Moody, to know how much the accusations hurt him. Even further, Draco likely believed the accusations to be true as well, and it wounded his pride as a person coming into his own that he was bound by the past mistake of his family. He was celebrated yet condemned by the Malfoy family name, and all that it meant, despite never having a say in what family he was born into. On his lap, Draco’s hands were shaking slightly, tremblingly grabbing onto his trousers as he enforced discipline on himself. 

Moody finally remembered that he had a job to do, and so he turned away from Draco, focusing on the rest of the class, to the collected immense relief of the students. 

“Ultimately, there is the Memory charm and spell,” the teacher who was not worthy of the title Professor spoke again, “these two are nasty pieces of work in their own right, and a fundamental invasion of both privacy and identity. However, they are not illegal in the same way as the Unforgivable Curses. Certain Ministry workers, and fast responders, have the authority to use the magic on Muggles, for the sake of protecting the dignity and safety of our dear, darling mage society.” When Moody called something ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ it sounded like he was cursing it, the words twisting from something positive, into a mockery of the fundamental meaning of the word.

“We don’t look so cruelly on using it on Muggles, but when it is used on our own people, we get mad. Your former teacher, that fraud Lockhart, earned himself a one way ticket to Azkaban for the usage of the use of the charm. Currently, there is no known way to restore someone who had been obliviated, or return the memories which were taken. The False Memory Spell has been recorded to be reversible in some few cases, but it is the exception, not the rule.” He stopped, then added, as if he had forgotten it. “The memory magic is easier to cast than the curses, but as I said, they will still earn you a life in a cage. Until the Dementors take that from you as well.” 

“Now, I see in all of your little faces that you are asking yourself ‘Why is he doing this? Teaching us Dark Arts and telling us that we shouldn’t use it?’ Go ahead, all of you who want to experiment with it. As I’ve stated multiple times, it will get you nowhere but to Azkaban. Then again, might be better to have you sent there as kids, than let you actually cast the magic as adults…” The way he stared at them made it seem like he wanted them to try and perform any of the listed curses, spell, or charm. It made it seem like he was looking for a reason, any reason, to lock them away. It didn’t matter that they were minors, and it didn’t matter that they had hitherto done nothing to deserve his paranoia and suspicion, Moody still viewed them with the eyes of somebody who was convinced of their collective guilt. 

“Now that that has been gone over,” the old Auror continued, “here is the real reason why I’ve taught you the incantations. It doesn’t matter that the Ministry and the School Board and whatnot have told me not to, as the real world out there isn’t as cuddly as they want you to think. If you hear any of these syllables, if you hear the incantation, or get a whiff of suspicion that someone is just about to cast any of those curses, I want you to get it into your heads to duck. Throw yourselves to the side, run. Anything to get away from the magic and the person casting it. If you hear someone cast a Forbidden Curse in your direction, I want to bang it into your heads to flee or move, not wait to see what will happen. Confusion, any confusion at all, might and will cost you lives or limbs out there. To not allow you the knowledge of the incantations will be contributing to your deaths should a war come, and my teachings are meant to help you survive at all costs.”

Judging by the way Moody looked, every student believed him when he cited to believe in survival, no matter what means had to be taken to assure it. As much as Harry didn’t want to agree with the man, the reasoning made sense, at the very least.

Whatever the students had expected next, it was not to be called forth from their seats to line up in the middle of the room.

Nobody wanted to stand in front, yet one Gryffindor student or another was pushed before the others, collectively chosen by the students as the first sacrifice. Harry couldn’t tell who had been chosen, but he thought it was a male specimen. Everyone had the same worried, aching feeling in their chests and throats, fearing whatever it was that Moody was about to subject them to, for they held no illusions about the man’s insanity at that point. They collectively believed that the man was going to do something to them which was sure to blossom into a teenage trauma when they grew older. If Harry didn’t know better, he would truly have suspected that Moody wanted to sow distrust and paranoia among the students, but as he was a teacher, the notion itself appeared paranoid to Harry.

Moody explained that he was about to cast a charm on them, one which relaxed the mind and body to a state of bliss and serenity. The charm, he stated, was meant to be used as a means of relaxation for stressed mages and while it was not illegal to cast it, casting it was frowned upon. He stated that it was in some ways similar to the mindset which the Imperius Curse caused, it was the closest they could get to the effect of the Imperius Curse without actually experiencing it for themselves.

Moody continued to state that the students were to subject themselves to the magic so that he could judge if they had the willpower to break it on their own, or if they got lost in it. It was possible to will oneself out of the bounds of both this charm, and the Imperius Curse, although it was far harder to break the curse than the charm. Moody reasoned that anyone who could break the charm had good potential to break free from the curse, should it be cast upon then, and anyone who didn’t better become very good at ducking as soon as possible. With the explanation done with, he pointed his staff as the trembling Gryffindor boy, and told him to step forward. 

Unlike with Remus’ lessons, this forced participation was uncomfortable and stressful for everyone. Because of Moody’s paranoid and erratic behavior, many students’ minds welcomed the bliss of not having to think, or be, for a few moments, if only just to escape from their crazed teacher. It was far from the optimal space to be able to break through a spell with sheer mind power, but then again, should the Imperius Curse be cast upon any of them, it would not likely be in a context which was ideal for them. In a twisted kind of way, the logic did work out, even if nobody was happy about it. 

The divide between the people who broke free from their trance and those who did not was about half-half, which seemed to satisfy Moody.

In the end, Neville, Draco, Hermione and Blaise broke out of their trance without too much trouble, with Neville breaking it so fast that it was as if it hadn’t been cast upon him at all. Moody gave him twenty points to his House right there and then, although the man was odd about it, and seemed to straight up struggle with even looking upon the teenager.

Harry theorised that Neville’s pain over the loss of his family, particularly the loss of their minds, to one of the Forbidden Curses had made him scarred to the idea of forced relaxation and general mind altering magic.

A memory came to Harry as he thought about the possibility of Neville having a phobia in relation to that type of magic, and how it explained the quickness, and violence, with which he had acted when Lockhart attempted to obliviate them in the tunnels outside of Secret’s Chamber. Harry had always thought of it as a panicked impulse, but that panic might have been fuelled by more than he had realised back then. 

Further, Ron, Nott, Crabbe, Parkinson and Goyle struggled to break out of the trance, with only Parkinson managing to break it after almost two minutes of struggling. Once she finally managed, she looked about to pass out from the effort, and was quickly swept to the side and given water by her boyfriend. Nobody minded them, as she was by far not the only one to have been drained by the effort. 

Harry had his suspicions as to why the people around him could or could not break free from the trance. In Neville’s case, it was trauma, in Draco’s it was pride. Blaise couldn’t allow anyone else to influence him, and Hermione was too active in her own mind to accept that it was empty. Ron and Nott both likely needed the break which came with turning those thoughts and complexes off, while Crabbe wasn’t able to reject a suggested path.

Goyle had been taught that he wasn’t good at thinking, and despite what his friends told him, he struggled with being more than just a side character in someone else’s story. In some ways, Goyle might even enjoy the calmness of not being defined to anyone as a forceful presence, but peaceful with the idea of a muted existence where things weren’t quite expected of him. The idea of finding peace in non-existence was frightening to Harry, but he recognised that he didn’t know what Goyle really thought of himself, and the paranoia of applying all the things he had just assumed onto the teenage boy based on him being unable to break a spell was rather insulting of Harry, which lead to him pushing those thoughts away. Unlike the others, Harry really didn't have any concrete evidence regarding Goyle, thus he stopped.

It was interesting to theorise about why Parkinson had been able to break the spell on her. Harry chose to believe that it meant that she could change, and that, however comfortable the idea of not thinking was to her, she ultimately rejected the comfort in favor of the real world. Just as she had been able to accept that her ideas about other girls and young women had been false when faced with a truth which contradicted her reality, she had been able to reject the illusion of peace, and return to a world which might not allow her much of it. He wouldn't take those thoughts for granted either, as making assumptions without facts, especially about people, was usually never a good idea.

As Harry thought and theorised, he had ended up at the front of the line, where Moody was waiting with his wand raised.

Harry glanced up at the scarred, paranoid, older man, who had given his mind and body to the protection of the Mage community, Whose reward had been the title of ‘mad’ attributed to a deformity likely caused by bringing peace to a community which might never know or appreciate what Moody had sacrificed for them.

It was definitely something humbling about being in the presence of someone like Alastor Moody, and had he been a less frightening, unfair and cruel man, Harry believed that it would have been easy for him to feel awed in front of the Auror. Yet the unpleasant and current memories of the way the man treated Harry’s friends and his students was so utterly fresh in his mind that the awe was replaced with a seething distaste for the man which made saliva feel bitter on his tongue. 

The former Auror licked his lips in a quick movement, which reminded Harry slightly of a snake, but which appeared to be a nervous tick. “My class list and the Professors tell me your name is Lupin, not Potter.”

Harry assumed that the statement was meant to be a question, and with a rising panic and discomfort threatening to steal his words and his breath away from him, he responded. “Yes, sir.”

Moody’s nose scrunched. “I take it the Ministry won’t allow you to change your name officially based on some bias or crude old rule.” The man snorted, appearing to be angry at the Ministry for more reasons than them simply rejecting Harry’s wish to change his name. 

Harry blinked at the man, his mouth falling open slightly before he slowly nodded.

Nobody, neither Professor or student had ever complained about the Ministry in that manner. It was almost as if Moody himself understood the frustration in having one’s identity rejected by an uncaring, faceless authority, which truthfully couldn’t care less about the mental health of the applicant, or care to provide even a single reason for the rejection. “Y-yes sir.” Harry stuttered out, nodding as he tried to focus on the man’s brown eye rather than the spinning blue one. 

Moody nodded, he seemed angry still, but not at Harry. “Anyone gives you attitude about your name because it's not the same as the one printed in some rotting old archive, you tell them that a name is an exchange and offer of trust, and the rejection or fumbling of a name is the rejection of that offer. It deems the person unworthy of any of your trust or your time.” He nodded and raised his wand. “Now then, I have a lesson to continue.” 

While Harry truly appreciated Moody’s very unexpected but welcome support for his name, Harry wasn’t sure if he believed that a singular fumbling of one’s name was reason to reject that person immediately.

He understood where Moody was coming from, and he didn’t think that anyone was wrong to remove themselves from people, be it friends of family members or coworkers, who couldn’t manage the basic effort of making sure they addressed the person in the way they wanted and preferred. However, had he rejected Draco right away for failing to display courtesy to a stranger whose name he didn’t yet understand the importance of, he would have lost his current best friend and the object of his affection.

In Harry’s mind, any person who realised their mistake, and made a conscious effort to never repeat the mistake again made him willing to give them a chance, but that was something which he himself had decided on his own, and he would never argue that it was the ultimate choice which everyone else should also adhere to. People had the right to reject or not reject anyone on their own terms, and to decide what was best for someone else, or to simply choose a universal best course of action, were ultimately ignorant. Moody’s words were true, but they were not the only truth. 

As Moody had just started quite the activity in Harry’s brain, only to turn all that activity off, it was very easy for him to reject the enforced calm. He wasn’t the quickest, it took him maybe half a minute before he was able to break through the veil of muddled thoughts and force his relaxed muscles to tense up once more, as he returned to have control over that which made him.

Harry blinked up at Moody, finding that he was relieved that the effect hadn’t been harder to resist. Perhaps, if Moody had simply let him be and not talked to him, it would have been harder for Harry to break the spell, as his thoughts would have been more shattered and less focused. It was hard to know for certain, but Harry found that he was certain of the fact that he was glad that it was over, and that he could step aside to allow another student to face down Moody and his direct teaching methods. 

Ultimately, Moody’s words to Harry hadn’t made the lesson any more pleasant. The fact that he had said one good thing, and been approving of Harry’s name, didn’t mean that he hadn’t hurt a lot of the students in the span of a single hour, spreading discord and distrust by means of accusations, and made them feel unsafe in his presence.

The students were still stressed as they exited the classroom, and some of them appeared outright scared by Moody and his forcefulness. Some wore expressions which told Harry that they never wanted to return to the classroom with Moody ever again.

Nott in particular appeared stressed out of his mind, and he hurried from the lesson to more or less dash towards the bathrooms. Blaise sped up his steps to follow, it made Harry feel happy to know that, for at least this once, Blaise wasn’t passively distancing himself, but appeared to be actively trying to assist a friend in need.

Next to Harry, Draco was nervously picking at his nails, absently retorting inwards, while his fingers suffered the result of his discomfort. Ron was picking at his old scars, the two teenagers’ movements mimicking the others’ without either of them noticing it. Neville looked like he wanted to throw up, one of his hands placed over his lips while his eyes remained unfocused.

Harry got the distinct feeling that he couldn’t really see, that whatever it was he was looking at belonged in his memories, and not in the present.

Hermione appeared furious, her expression tense, determined, and likely hiding her own discomfort. Harry was about to say something, to unite his group by some encouraging speech, like he often did, but to his surprise, and slight relief, Hermione spoke up before him, saving him from being the one to have to support five people while he too, felt uncomfortable. 

“This cannot be acceptable!” Hermione declared. “That type of behavior, scaring and scarring the students… I understand his reasoning behind teaching us about it, but the way he was edging us against one another…!” She reached out and grabbed a hold of both Draco and Ron, stopping each teenager from ripping old wounds open in their silent distress. “Harry, Malfoy, you go speak with Professor Snape right away. Neville and Ron, we’ll go speak to Professor McGonagall.” 

Ron, who appeared highly embarrassed to have been touched out of nowhere, and also caught in the midst of retorting to bad habits, chewed on his lower lip. “Can we really do that? Go complain about a teacher? Hermione, he is king in there, complaining isn’t going to… to…” He thought of a suiting symbolism for the king. “Remove his crown?” He finished, somewhat lamely. 

Hermione’s eyes flared with passion as she looked back at him. “Grossly oversimplified: America ended segregation by the means of suing the people in power and the government, which some might call similar to complaining.” She stated. “And the first Pride Parade was a riot. Compliance in a bad situation is feeding those who would rather see you remain in it.” She squeezed both Draco’s and Ron’s hands, then let of Draco to gently grab Neville instead. “We’ll see you at dinner.” She began pulling her friends with her, leading them towards change. 

Harry and Draco remained where they were, looking after their friends as Hermione hurried them along, although she took great care to not push Neville too hard or too much. Harry slid a little closer to his friend, with the awkwardness of someone who knew that he was allowed to, but hesitated for personal reasons. He replaced Hermione’s hand with his own, although the replacement was clumsy, causing Harry to bump against the silver snake cufflinks which Draco always wore, as he grabbed onto the pale wizard’s hand. 

Draco looked down at him, the angle really wasn’t too flattering, but Harry found himself unable to care about such unimportant details when he could instead put his energy into looking upon the teenager’s slightly red lips. Draco returned the squeeze of his hand as per usual.

“What is a Pride Parade?” He asked as the two of them began walking towards Professor Snape’s office, as they both agreed, without having to voice it, that Hermione was right in her suggested course of action. 

“I don’t know,” Harry responded, “but it sounds very important. Maybe even life changing for some, by the way she compared it to segregation.”

“I suppose I will ask her later then.” Draco concluded. “Do you believe Nott will be alright? I haven’t seen him that shaken, with the exception of when he was hurting that much.” 

“I think Blaise might make it better.” Harry thought of the way Nott looked upon his fellow Slytherin, and of the affections which he likely held towards Blaise. It wasn’t that everyone enjoyed being comforted by the person who they were crushing on, but Harry knew Nott well enough to suspect that he was one of the people who would. Maybe, in the case of Nott and Blaise, knowing that Blaise did care about him enough to follow him, might be enough to at least momentarily lift the tinkerer goblin’s spirits. 

Harry knew for certain that he would have appreciated Draco comforting him if he was distressed. He also knew that the blonde teenager would beyond doubt come to comfort him, and the certainty behind the thought made Harry feel endlessly happy. He hoped that Draco knew that he would come to comfort him too, should he need it. Always. 

Professor Snape was not surprised about their complaints about the teaching methods of Alastor Moody. They had been lucky to catch him in his office, working on administrative documents and papers which were likely in preparation of the delegates from the other schools which would arrive shortly. He welcomed Harry and Draco inside so that they could speak freely about their highly uncomfortable lesson with Moody. They did their best to retell everything objectively, but it was hard to not feel upset about the events which had transpired. Professor Snape did not blame them for their inability to remain objective. 

“I believe it is a failure of us as a teaching body to allow this to happen,” the Potions Master began, “but you are not the first ones to complain about Mr. Moody and his teaching methods. It has been less than a week, and he will be receiving a warning as soon as the Headmaster returns from Bulgaria. He is currently busy with preparations for the Trimagus Tournament, but he will be back by tomorrow night. He has so far managed to frighten most of the student body with his behaviour, and it is not something Hogwarts stands for as a house of education.” 

After stating what was expected of him as a teacher, Snape looked down upon his partner’s son and his own Godson, as his expression turned gentler. The expression had no doubt come to enter into his possession through his relationship with Remus, but if he failed to hide it because he had become comfortable with the expression, or if he wanted to show it to his close-to-but-technically-not sons, neither of the almost sons knew for certain. “I did not think it was a good idea to hire Moody. I’m sorry that you, and everyone else, are forced to deal with him because we could not find someone more qualified to take his place. I will personally speak with Professor Dumbledore, this is not something you students should endure.” He confessed. 

“Thank you, Professor.” As if they had rehearsed it, the two teenagers spoke up in tandem. 

Professor Snape nodded. “If Mr. Nott does not improve, I will encourage him to visit the school counselor, as he should not be left to suffer in silence or alone. I trust that the Deputy Headmistress will do the same to her students, but I will take care to mention it to her when I see her next. Was there anything else you needed me for?” He glanced back towards his work, expressing without words that he had a lot of work ahead of him which he would like to get back to. Yet, it was not a demand for them to leave.

Over the time Professor Snape had come to spend with the Lupin family, it seemed that he was seeking to isolate himself a lot less, which both boys were happy about. Harry sometimes thought back to what Draco had admitted about his mother's worries for the man, and how it seemed that Professor Snape was better off these days just as he knew the relationship was good for his dad.

“I did not have anything else to say, no.” Draco looked to Harry. 

Harry shook his head in return. “Nothing comes to mind, thank you for your time, Professor.” Harry smiled at the man. 

“It is part of my work.” The Professor assured them, secretly running from the compliment by using such a standardised response. “Would you make sure to close the door properly on your way out? Good. Ah, and Mr. Lupin, do write to your father before too long, or he will think that something has happened to you.” 

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the comment. “I will. You should write to him as well, or he will think that something has happened to you.” 

Harry didn’t get to see his dad’s partner’s reaction, for Draco accidentally pushed the door shut as he tried to hold back his fit of laughter, managing to do so at the cost of shutting the door too quickly. As soon as the door was safety shut Draco’s facade broke and he chuckled loudly into his hand. 

“Harry…!” He breathed, clearly not upset at all, but unable to say anything else for the moment. 

Harry smiled innocently. “What?” He tried to keep from laughing along with his best friend, but was ultimately pulled along with his amusement. It felt wonderful to laugh, to chase away the discomfort of Moody by replacing it with joy instead. 

Inside his office, Severus Snape placed a paper aside on his desk, dedicating it to become a letter to his partner in the near future. A partner who would indeed become worried if he did not hear from either him or Harry, although Remus would never admit it out of fear of being a burden.

Severus, in turn, wouldn’t tell him that he was flattered by the very concept of someone worrying about him, as he had always believed that to be a luxury which nobody would ever extend towards his person. He knew it was a strange form of selfishness to find pleasure in such a thing, but the reasons why he enjoyed Remus’ company and their relationship were plenty, having one comparatively bad reason which he kept to himself was no crime, and it did not harm them as a couple. 

As he returned to work, a distant, far part of his mind toyed with the idea of dedicating the letter to ‘Dearest Remus’ but the words were too powerful to record, too honest to write, too fragile to think about clearly. For now, the letter would say ‘Dear Remus’ and it would bring the man in question immense joy. In the safety of his office, Severus allowed himself a small smile as he thought about just how happy a single letter from him would make his partner. The endearing, honest, gentle man that he was. 

However, there was work to be done, so Remus would have to wait a little longer for his promised letter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Extending the list of illegal magic**  
>  Altering something as defining for the individual as that of their minds and memories is something which should by all means be illegal, and create quite the chaos within a society if not properly regulated. 
> 
> We have elected to add the Memory Charm and magic to alter memories to magic which is illegal to perform. As mentioned in the story, altering memory is generally approved if done against Muggles and for the sake of protection the mage society, however, strictly illegal against one another. In this manner, it becomes an act with heavy consequences, such as any crime, which will happen, but in much smaller scale. 
> 
> **The Imperius Curse**  
>  There is a recognised concept within both philosophy and psychology regarding people's unwillingness to take responsibility, and an unwillingness to actively make decisions. 
> 
> Back in Nathan's past Methodology class, the teacher gave the following example:  
> A person is uncomfortable and slightly unhappy in their relationship. They are thinking of breaking it off with their partner, but have a hard time taking the step and justifying their action in their own mind. Thus, when the partner grabs their hand next, they do not grab it back, but neither does the person pull away. Through the lack of action, the person has made themselves an object within the situation, and no longer an acting participant with their own will. 
> 
> The teacher further went on to discuss that everything is, technically, an active choice. Humans often follow routines or say that they have to do certain things, but it is seldom the truth, as there is always a different choice, only it would have consequences. 
> 
> The Imperius Curse, as described in the chapter, operates on the willingness to relax and let go of that active decision-making, and making oneself an object by letting go and allowing oneself to be pulled along. It is a recorded desire in people, stronger in some, weaker in others. 
> 
> Generally speaking, children and teenagers have an easier time breaking out of it than adults, because as described, once they are in a situation where they are fully responsible for themselves and their own lives, and face the weight and drawbacks of said responsibility, the need to escape and let go often becomes stronger.
> 
> This does not apply to everyone, as shown in the chapter with various manners in which the other spell affects the children. 
> 
> **The relaxation charm**  
>  It should be natural that there are spells which have similar effects to that of a drugged mind, as it is very likely that someone has attempted inventing such spells; pleasure is often a motivator for inventions. 
> 
> We could not in good conscience let Moody cast the Imperius Curse on the children, as it goes against the very regulations set up about what is legal to do and not. It should send him straight to Azkaban. 
> 
> The act of teaching Dark Arts, if only to keep people away from the spells, or to use a mere simulation of a curse, is going to have consequences as is. 
> 
> **Torturing is harder than killing**  
>  Moody says that the torture curse is harder to perform than the killing curse because all required to kill someone is a single instant of willingness to take a life. To torture, one has to extensively have a willingness to hurt and maybe even a desire to kill, for a longer period of time. 
> 
> **Moody isn't a professor**  
>  As previously discussed, Moody has not published academic works or earned a Professor title, thus he is referred to as Mr. Moody.


	8. Chapter 7 - In which three schools celebrate Halloween together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then, something quite so extraordinary had happened: Moody had become a decent to good teacher. He stopped accusing students and seemed to have well received the notion that he would have to behave and treat the children with respect, lest lose his job.

Almost two months had passed since Harry and his friends began their fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry had written to his dad a few times, but he generally didn’t have a lot to write about beside school activities, as he was mostly busy with schoolwork. 

Luckily, the problem which was Moody was dealt with as soon as Professor Dumbledore came back, with the man receiving a warning for his treatment of the students. He also had to apologise to each class, and while some might have preferred if he apologised specifically to the students who he had hurt, far more were uncomfortable with the idea of receiving a personal apology from Moody. 

Then, something quite so extraordinary had happened: Moody had become a decent to good teacher. He stopped accusing students and seemed to have well received the notion that he would have to behave and treat the children with respect, lest lose his job.

He was still struggling with some things, and he sometimes startled the students with hasty movements or simply disassociated in the middle of speaking. Still, he was becoming better, so much so that after a mere two months, he had started to have his own style of teaching, which some students, like Nott, had begun to enjoy. It didn’t mean that they were all comfortable with him, and while he was nowhere near as good of a teacher as Remus was, he was far more animated and exciting to listen to than Professor Quirrell, and clearly knew what he was talking about in a way which Professor Lockhart hadn’t. Once, he even mentioned werewolves, in the same tone which one spoke of a sickness which couldn’t be cured. That earned him a slight bit more respect from Harry. 

Moody’s teaching methods proved to be highly physical. 

At first, he had seemed quite so bitter that he was no longer able to teach the students in a way he wanted to, yet he came up with a lesson idea which Harry was rather sure wasn’t in any teaching plans in any magic centered school.

Moody told them all to bring their least valuable clothes, skip their ties and suggested for everyone to wear trousers to the next lesson. Then, he gathered them outside on one of the fields, which he had remade into a sort of training course with obstacles and barricades. He taught them all a spell which, upon hitting someone, would discolor their clothes with what appeared to be big spots of paint, but was in fact magic discoloring what it had hit. The spots could be easily removed with another spell, which he taught them as well. Then, he set them free in an all against all battle, training them to duck and hide. Once hit by the illusion of paint, that person was removed from the field and had to wait to be let back in. Hermione said that the game reminded her of one which she had played in Muggle middle school, where the goal was mostly the same but the objects doing the hitting were soft balls. 

In the beginning, the games had been simple, all against all, loss after hit, but then Moody began to add other rules. He allowed them to pair up, then to become units. He built little houses for them to invade, then divided the students up as actors, where some played innocent civilians to be saved from the ‘criminals’ as Moody called them. It did occur to some that they were essentially being trained as Aurors, as task forces, but it was mostly so much fun that few cared.

However, someone complained again, and Moody had grumpily told them that he had to restrict his outdoor lessons since some people found it too cold. Further, he had been told that he was straying too far from the curriculum and had to restrict the outdoor lessons to one per month, until the weather got warmer. Then he would be allowed to let them out twice a month. 

Harry, alongside a number of students, lamented the loss of the outdoor lessons, as they had been fun, and Moody was clearly in a far better mood when he was not locked up in a classroom. Harry absentmindedly noticed that it was possible that the man’s paranoia caused him slight claustrophobia, yet he couldn’t be sure. 

Draco, along with many of the other Quidditch players and aspiring Quidditch players, had welcomed the physical activity, and were sad to see it removed. 

Nott, who had found great enjoyment in overacting a distressed civilian, was expressively sad that he would have no use for his, almost perfected, distress call. The call in question had terrified Ron, who had accidentally shot Nott once, while he aimed at Blaise and failed to consider the possibility that Blaise would use Nott as a shield to protect himself. Ron had been quite upset, but Moody and Nott had both found it hilarious, while Blaise tried his best to act like his usage of Nott as a shield hadn’t been more of a mistake than a planned action. 

Hermione had struggled a lot with the lessons, and had generally been taken out pretty early, except once, when she had strategically crashed into Draco, and got them both taken out by a stray attack from someone neither of them had seen. Once, she had betrayed Neville, and had subsequently felt bad for the rest of the day, although everyone assured her that it had been fine. 

Parkinson proved to be a cunning strategist and was more often than not in the game to the very end. One of the most memorable of the games had pitted her against Parvati Patil, and the battle had escalated into a Muggle Western drama, which Harry had recently learned about in Muggle Studies, with the two young women shouting insults at one another while they colored the objects around them in all colors of the rainbow. When Parkinson finally won, it had been a legendary victory, at least until Nott began to live out his dreams of being a distressed civilian. 

Draco was generally good at the game, but tended to forget that he wasn’t as fast on ground as he was in the air, on a broom. He often made the right maneuvers, and was very quick in ducking or hiding, but sometimes misjudged the distance of covers. He greatly enjoyed the game, and Harry, as well as their friends, couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be getting better with an alarming speed. Once, they sent him into a makeshift building alone, and he managed to defeat the three people in there without any color getting to him. After that measurable feat, he was collided into by Hermione, this time by accident, and they were both hit. It spoiled his legendary victory slightly, but after a few minutes, it had him doubling over with laughter as Hermione squeaked out apologies. 

Harry was by no means very good at the game, but he was slightly better at hiding than Hermione was, so he usually lasted longer than her, but not by too long. He became decent at ducking, but afterwards, he didn’t really have the speed or stamina to get away. Ron had identified this weakness, and the two of them were fighting a fierce but friendly battle of survival. Currently, the score was Ron: 8 and Harry: 3. Once, Ron had saved Harry from Goyle, which they both counted as a victory for themselves, and had agreed to raise the numbers by one. After they came to that conclusion, they were both taken out in quick succession by Neville, who had seen a chance and opted to take it. 

Harry was slightly bummed out that he wouldn’t have the chance to raise his score any higher for a while, but made a small promise to himself to try and work out more, if only to get better at running away from Ron during outdoors Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco thought the idea of exercise was good, and volunteered to help him, should he need it. Harry welcomed and needed the help. 

Some more time passed, and the long awaited day finally came, when the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive, signalling the start of the Trimagus Tournament. 

“Remember,” Professor McGonagall concluded her lesson, “that all students should begin preparation for their O.W.L exams which will be taking place next year. I know that me telling this now may appear far too early, but you should all know of and be prepared for them. However, as the delegates from Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Institute will be arriving today, I can tell that if I tell you of your O.W.Ls today, you will forget it in the rush of tonight. I will properly instruct you in what those exams mean during your next Transfiguration lesson. Have a pleasant All Hallow’s Eve, and do not run in the corridors.” With those words, she ended her lesson, and concluded their final lesson of the day. 

She hadn’t been wrong about their excitement. The whole school seemed to be buzzing with life and energy, as the students and Hogwarts workers became infected with curiosity and excitement, most of which was aimed towards the students who would soon arrive to share a living space with them. Some were nervous, but most people looked forward to the occasion. After all, they would have a tournament taking place on their very own school grounds, with free admission for the students to enjoy the spectacle. 

The castle had been scrubbed almost floor to ceiling, appearing as close to new as it probably could. Things had been cleaned, restored, the Hogwarts House Hourglasses polished until they were shining. The décor in the Great Hall that evening was splendid, with seemingly no expenses spared in making sure that the decorations appeared exquisite and magical. The younger students, and the more likely than not Muggle-born ones, were enthralled by the magic on display. Harry spotted Colin Creevy and with someone who was likely his brother judging by his appearance. The older brother pointed to the decorations and took photos of his younger brother, both of them talking eagerly. Harry made a note in the back of his mind to ask Creevy if the younger teenager would be alright with taking a photograph of him and his friends later.

Harry and his group of friends were slightly disappointed to be separated from the rest of their friend group when the Headmaster asked everyone to return to their House tables for the moment. They were allowed to return to their preferred seats wherever they wanted after the welcoming ceremony was done, but for the sake of not confusing the newcomers, the Headmaster asked them to sit by their Houses for the moment. Harry could think of a few counter arguments to the idea that they had to be seated by numbers for the sake of not confusing the newcomers, especially since the confusion would surely be bigger if they all simply wandered about after having been presented in sets of color. However, he wasn’t in a position to complain, so he watched his Gryffindor friends return to their House table, while Lovegood fluttered off to hers. 

The delegates had arrived earlier that day, both in rather bold fashion. The students had been told to leave them be, and not go outside to witness their arrival for the sake of not making the arriving students feel pressured and exposed before they even had the time to settle in. Some had respected the fact that treating the visitors like objects to admire would be dehumanising them, but some had sneaked away from the castle to have a look either way. Harry and his friends had overheard someone talk about it; apparently, the Beauxbatons students had arrived in a flying carriage, drawn by winged horses as big as elephants, while the Durmstrang students had come by boat, a massive ship with the most intricate of details and decorations. The students from Beauxbatons were apparently all stunningly beautiful and elegant in all that they did, not to mention, they welcomed the looks and attention, or so people said. The Durmstrang students looked hardened and tough, the type of young men and women who would just as well use magic as they would use violence in a fight. Some students claimed that they all appeared to be Dark Mages, and seemed solemn and a little frightening. Harry decided to refrain from judgement until he saw the students for himself, as his own observations would probably be far more useful to him than any gossip from another source. 

“Students, would you lend me your ears?” Professor Dumbledore spoke up from the front of the Great Hall, raising his hands to further note to the people gathered that he wanted their attention. 

The Great Hall quieted down, and for the moment, most people forgot to look towards the doors, even if some still glanced expectantly towards them. It was at the very least an improvement compared to everyone guarding the door like dogs waiting for the mail to arrive. Normally, Harry wouldn’t naturally think of that comparison, but after having lived with his dogfather for a few months, he had learned that there were few things as interesting to a dog as the arrival of the mail. 

“As you know, the delegates have arrived, and are waiting outside of the Great Hall on my request, as I wanted this final chance to speak just to you.” The old wizard began. 

Some looked worried as he spoke, glancing between one another as if they expected to be scolded. 

“I want you all to remember that Hogwarts will be the home to more students than just you this year, and as it will be their home, I should hope that you think of them not as some strange, exotic guests to be stared at, but as fellow students. Some of them have chosen to come here despite struggling somewhat with the language. Do not treat them as if they are less intelligent for this fact, but respect that some words are taught more frequently and commonly than others to non-native speakers. Be respectful, not patronising. Finally, know that the culture of Mage societies in different countries differs more than you might have initially thought. You have probably heard that the Durmstrang Institute has elected to teach their students Dark Arts, and this might raise some alarm for some of you. However, to understand what might seem frightening and ever so surprising to us, we have to consider the fact that most of central and Eastern Europe, as well as East of it, did not experience the Mage War, neither any extremism and terror before it. What we know as Dark Arts has never poisoned the societies wherein they lived, not like anything we experienced here in Britain. I would like to remind you that Dark Arts is not, and have never been, strictly illegal, but rather frowned upon and removed from the British mage society to heal the wounds of war. The arts are still implemented in many parts of society, but in harmless forms we accept and do not mind. If you recall anything from my little speech, remember that Dark Arts is not as frightening as it may sound.” 

The old wizard paused to allow his words to sink in, then began to speak once more. “The students from Durmstrang have been made aware of the hurt and damage which have been caused by and with Dark Arts here in Britain, and have been asked to be mindful towards a culture different from their various origins. Likewise, I would ask you to be mindful and respectful towards them, and to not brand them with ideologies that were never a part of their lives.”

The students of Hogwarts seemed to react in various ways to the Headmaster’s statement. Harry was reminded of those thoughts he was confirming the more time he spent in Muggle Studies, that was to say, that people in different parts of the world experienced different things, had different cultures, and altogether different references of things. Had he not learnt those things, or entertained those thoughts, he probably wouldn’t have had as easy of a time agreeing with Professor Dumbledore. Dark Arts had been the source of a lot of hurt towards his dad, his close family and friends, and Harry had very negative associations with the arts after having been accused of being a practitioner repeatedly. Yet, if Dark Arts was only frowned upon because of the Mage War, then most of the world would likely not mind Dark Arts, seeing the fact that the war took place in Britain, and only scarcely affected nearby countries and connected communities.  
  
Knowing the current student body of Hogwarts, Harry sincerely doubted that the exchange would go far too smoothly. From experience, he could point at some people which would likely not accept them at all, and some people, like his friends, who he knew would at least try to be patient and understanding, no matter how Dark Arts had affected them negatively. Hopefully, it wouldn’t become too much of a problem at the school.

“Further,” the Headmaster called for their attention once more, “I wish you all to know that many of the students who will be attending this year are in high numbers close to or over eighteen, as both Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy both incorporate study years from one to eight, rather than the one to seven which Hogwarts employees.” 

The old man smiled at his students, giving them all a very grandfather-like look, before he held out his hands towards the doors of the Great Hall, which flew open at his unspoken command. “Hogwarts, let us welcome Igor Karkaroff and his students of Durmstrang Institute with an applause.” 

Igor Karkaroff entered first, walking before his students, who were dressed in what Harry assumed to be the uniforms of their school. There was no difference between the uniforms, all of them adapted black trousers and a dark red, almost brown jacket, and a pair of boots. He briefly wondered if the dark colors was what had made people say they looked like Dark Mages. Karkaroff looked a lot like he had back when Harry had first met him at the Quidditch World Cup, he looked dignified and slightly pleased with the applause, accepting it as if it was for him alone. He reminded Harry of a smug cat where he walked before his students, guiding them. 

Next to Karakoff walked a person who, judging by the whispers and Draco’s claws in Harry’s arm, was Victor Krum, the Quidditch player legend. Over by the Gryffindor table, Ron had adopted a similar approach to what Draco had done as he saw Krum, only that Neville happened to be his victim. Krum looked utterly jaded to the applause, instead staring straight ahead, almost as if he couldn’t really hear it. 

Behind the Headmaster walked another two teachers, one man and one woman. The students which followed the teachers and Krum appeared like normal students, albeit that many of them appeared close to seventeen and eighteen, rather than the mix of ages in Hogwarts. Some appeared dignified, others nervous, while some looked like they regretted quite a few choices which had led them to this point in their lives. More than anything, they looked like people. Had they been wearing Hogwarts uniforms, Harry was certain that they would have fit in without anyone noticing. 

The students moved towards the front of the Slytherin table, and were seated. Some of them greeted the Hogwarts students next to them, while others took the time to study the ceiling or take in the grandness of the Hall itself. 

Professor Dumbledore allowed the applause to die down as Karkaroff walked to take his place by the Teachers’ table, followed by the other two teachers from Durmstrang Institute. Harry noticed how the man stopped for just a moment to give Professor Snape’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before taking his seat next to the Potions Master. It made Harry happy to see that his dad’s partner had more friends in the world than the members of the Hogwarts faculty. 

“Now, I wish you all to extend an equal welcome to Madame Olympe Maxime and her students from Beauxbatons Acamedy of Magic.” The old wizard spoke once more. 

His words produced a collection of students from the entrance hall, making it appear as if they had been hiding out of sight. They were a collection of young women and men, dressed in bright blue uniforms. Unlike Durmstrang Institute, the student from Beauxbatons had differing uniforms, some featuring skirts and some featuring trousers, both made in the same lightweight, silky material as the top part of the uniform. It appeared as if they had some manner of hair dressing code, for none of the students wore their hair freely if it reached to their shoulders, but had it put up in elaborate hairdos. The uniforms were clearly not gendered, as Harry saw some male presenting people wear skirts, and some female presenting people wear trousers. 

Yet again, Harry noticed that the students from Beauxbatons were, well, just people. They weren’t all otherworldly beauties, but people who had clearly put effort into presenting professionally as they visited another country. This professional appearance took the form of cleanly pressed uniforms, elaborate hairdos, and makeup. Even then, not all the students had taken the time to do more than have their uniforms pressed. 

Behind the students walked two teachers, one being a smaller woman with her hair put up in a similar way to the students, her skin a deep, dark tone, and robes a similar color to the students before her. Next to her walked a giant woman, with a coat which was no doubt more expensive than the entirety of Harry’s home and most things within it. Harry could immediately tell that she was the Headmaster of Beauxbatons, because the way she carried herself left no doubt about her position. She wore a kind expression on her face as she walked alongside the other teacher towards the other end of the Great Hall where the Hogwarts Headmaster was waiting. Professor Dumbledore took the time to kiss her hand, as well as the hand of the much smaller female teacher she had brought with her as the Beauxbatons students got seated by the Ravenclaw table. Harry absently noted that a few more of them seemed eager to speak with the Hogwarts students by the same table, but that probably had more to do with the fact that older students were seated at the front of the Ravenclaw table compared to the first year Slytherin students who found themselves next to the Durmstrang students. 

The Hogwarts Headmaster returned to his podium once more and held up his arms, signalling for the attention of the people gathered in the Great Hall. When he spoke, he took extra care to articulate his words, he did so without sounding patronising. “All students, welcome to Hogwarts. We welcome you as our own students, and hope that you will find yourselves comfortable during this year of cultural and social exchange. Now, for the main event of this evening, allow me to present to you… The Goblet of Fire!” Seeing the fact that the Headmaster went straight ahead to the main event, Harry concluded that the teachers must have met with the foreign students previous to this gathering.

Next to the old wizard, blue smoke erupted, and a beautiful goblet rose from the ground, capturing the light of thousands of candles within its cup as it ascended. From the cup rose a deeply blue flame in the same color as Moody’s blue eye. From around the goblet, smoke continued to pour, swirling as if moved by the awe which was aimed at the magical artifact by the entirety of the Great Hall. 

Professor Dumbledore allowed the students to speak between themselves for a little while, then spoke over them, kindly calling their attention back to him. “A total of nine names will be entered into the Goblet of Fire, three from each school. Those of you who have had interest in entering will be properly reviewed during the following day, and your names will be entered in the evening of Saturday. On Sunday this weekend, the Trimagus champions will be chosen, and then a grand feast will be held to celebrate said champions. Of course, the Goblet of Fire shall not be put on display, as it is far too dangerous to leave an ancient magical artifact out in the open. This is not to say that we do not trust you students but-”

“You don’t actually trust us!” One of the Weasley twins shouted. He saw a chance and took it. 

Some people giggled at his outburst, including some Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, but most looked embarrassed over the unwanted commentary. Ron and Ginny looked like they both wanted to sink through the floor, with Ron even attempting to hide his red hair under his hands. It didn’t work at all, but it did make him look ever so miserable. 

Professor Dumbledore chuckled at the Weasley twin’s words, then shook his head. “I was going to state that we do not want any accidents to unfold, but if you find your version more appealing, then I assure you I shall not take your freedom of choice from you.” The Headmaster avoided mentioning Weasley’s name, to assure that nobody was able to identify him who didn’t already know him. “But for the rest of today, we shall honor the cultural and social exchange, and allow our very guests to enjoy the food and drink Hogwarts has to offer. Let the Halloween welcoming feast begin.” 

The scent of food followed Professor Dumbledore's words as food appeared upon the plates and serving trays upon the tables, much to the enjoyment of the students. 

Draco turned towards Harry, who could see stars in his best friend’s eyes. “He’s so handsome…!” He whispered, trying to remain as calm and collected as always, clearly restraining himself in his desire to look towards the place where Victor Krum was seated. 

“He looked more normal than I had expected up close.” Blaise answered, clearly having heard Draco’s whisper. 

Draco looked like he was about to pout, but he managed to regain control over himself before he succumbed to such dishonor. “Handsome doesn’t necessarily have to mean extraordinary.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but did anyone spot the handsome woman amongst the Be-be-beh students?” Nott asked eagerly. “Or I think it was a woman, actually, maybe it wasn’t a woman? If I ever meet them, I’ll ask for their preferred pronouns.” 

“It’s Beauxbatons.” Draco and Blaise corrected him, both with perfect French accents, at least to Harry’s ears. 

Nott met Harry’s gaze before rolling his own eyes, causing the son of a werewolf to chuckle and shake his head. “I admire your attempt.” Harry said, diplomatically. 

“Thank you, Lup-ling, my only friend in this trying time.” Nott spoke solemnly, before he broke out laughing. “I hope we get any students in our class, I’d love to ask the French people some stuff about their subjects. I’ve heard that they have a class which specialises in teaching about magical objects, and infusing magic into otherwise mundane constructions, like clockwork!” 

“And bombs?” Blaise suggested. 

“Yes!” Nott cheered, his eyes gleaming. 

Harry smiled at Draco as the blonde teenager passed him a piece of chicken which he couldn’t reach from his current position. He hadn’t even noticed that the chicken pieces were there, but Draco apparently had and had skipped the questioning to simply give Harry his desired food. His plate filled with more food, although this time, it was added by himself, mostly. Nott made an attempt to push a piece of pumpkin over to him, and Harry accepted it to help his friend. After all, it was Halloween, and Harry wanted all the pumpkin he could get. 

His group was too far from the Durmstrang students to actually interact them, which meant that their dinner was mostly the same as always, if not for the fact that it took their Gryffindor friends a while to join them. The Slytherin table was rather full that evening and Hermione, Neville and Ron had to wait for some students to leave before there was space for them. Only when the three Gryffindor students came over to their group did it truly feel like they were celebrating together with friends. 

“Krum is even more handsome in real life than he is on his posters!” Ron whispered as he sat down next to Draco, who nodded in support of his words. 

“Finally someone who understands.” Draco sighed, throwing Blaise a disapproving look. 

The teenager returned with a shrug, hiding his pleasant smile behind his drinking goblet. 

Neville absently rubbed his upper arm where Ron had forcefully grabbed him. “I had a suspicion you found him appealing…” He mumbled. 

Hermione giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand. Harry noticed that she seemed exceedingly happy. He didn’t know it, but for a person like Hermione who had grown up in the Muggle world, where those masculine of gender were expected to never admit attraction to someone of the same sex or gender presentation, it was an incredible relief to her to be reminded that the Mage Society of which she was a part of was different to the one from which she had originally come. Neville smiled at her in a knowing manner. He knew well what Harry did not, and he strongly approved of his best friend feeling comfortable among her own people. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **School Uniforms & Dress Codes **  
> Beauxbatons Academy of Magic has, in this lore, a system of the same kind of upper body uniform, and then a set of trousers and skirts for every student, which they freely get to switch back and forth between, depending on their own comfort. More commonly, they switch depending on the weather, whatever they currently feel like wearing, and whether or not the school activities require more or less physical movement. 
> 
> The school is a highly appraised prestigious academy, and has therefore adopted and fosters such an image. It is not uncommon for students at Beauxbatons to want to present themselves at their very best, but that does not mean that every single student is and appears the same, and the methods in which they appear proper, dignified and attractive are by means of makeup and mannerisms.
> 
> There is a dress code to keep longer hair properly put up and out of the face, no matter the student's gender. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Durmstrang Institute is a highly practical magical school with a vast variety of students from nearby countries. In this lore, the school has quite a bit of physical education in combination with what they learn in magic, and thus as a collective, they are likely more physically adept than students who do not work out on a regular basis, yet that doesn't have to apply to everyone, or everyone equally. 
> 
> Their uniforms are made out of durable materials which allow them to be comfortable through all their activities, and all uniforms feature trousers for practicality. There are variations to the uniforms depending on weather and whether or not activities are outdoors or indoors. 
> 
> **Dark Arts**  
>  This shall be explored further in the future, but magic is as much a tool as everything else in the world, and a tool can be used to do good and harm. 
> 
> The stigma against the types of magic which have been deemed 'Dark Arts', and then further lumped together with any sort of danger within magic nature, comes from cultural associations; in this case, war, distrust, paranoia and actual harm to people made it necessary to avoid the type of magic, while the community healed. The stigma against Dark Arts is very British within this lore, due to the British mage community and nearby regions having faced harm because of it.
> 
>  **Auror Training**  
>  While the physical outdoor activities in Moody's class can partly be reminiscent of Auror training, it does not actually correspond to what the real training program is like. 
> 
> **Muggle Studies**  
>  In this lore, Muggle Studies has two components every lesson. One longer which deals with systems, culture and history, the deeper systematic and historical knowledge. The shorter period is for trivia, fun concepts and individual things within the Muggle society, for the sake of interest, fun and fascination. Hence, movies being one of the first concepts introduced in such a manner.


	9. Chapter 8 - In which a not-friend proves to not be as horrible as he previously was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ron, it’s getting cold, do you mind closing the window?” Hermione glanced towards the red haired teenager, smiling carefully at him. 
> 
> “Oh yeah, sure.” Ron closed the window, then suddenly screamed. 
> 
> Only he wasn’t the only voice which was screaming. 

“I can’t believe that we are studying when there are new students who we could be spending time getting to know.” Ron complained. He had been very honest in admitting that he needed help with his Muggle Studies homework, and he hadn’t complained for three hours. Even now, he wasn’t so much complaining as he was venting his emotions in a slightly unhealthy manner, as he wasn’t actually addressing the real problem. 

“At least we are finished now.” Draco commented as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head as he held back a yawn. 

“You were a great help.” Harry smiled towards Draco and Hermione. “It would have taken us double the time on our own.” 

Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Lovegood were sitting in a study room together, going over Harry, Ron and Lovegood’s Muggle Studies homework. The homework itself was rather simple, but it had taken them quite some time to go over it because they had ended up distracted by small things and information which led them down rabbit holes. By the time they had finished their study session, Hermione, with some passive assistance from Draco, had taught them a lot more than they needed to know to pass the next lesson with flying colors. Neville was there because he didn’t want to be alone, he had mostly listened to the information with a passive look of polite interest. 

“It’s no trouble at all!” Hermione beamed at Harry. 

“I learned a lot. Let us hope that the Knowledgenibblers don’t get to us so that we forget it all again.” Lovegood spoke in her absent tone of voice. 

“Yeah, that would be a shame.” Ron agreed as he stood up to open a window. The cold October wind was not the most pleasant to have entering their study abode, but they all needed the air for the sake of their brains. Ron sighed, resting his head on his hand, his elbow firmly planted onto the windowsill. He was still standing up. “Who do you think will be chosen as the Hogwarts Champion?” He asked. 

Harry frowned to himself. “I don’t think I know anyone who is old enough to enter the tournament.” He glanced towards Draco, as if his friend held the answer to who he knew and did not know. 

Draco shrugged. “I would have suggested Marcus Flint or Oliver Wood, but they both graduated last year, so they couldn’t possibly be chosen for the tournament.” 

Harry remembered what Oliver Wood had been liked back when he had actually sort of spent time with the firecracker of a Gryffindor student during last year and last year's Holiday celebrations. Wood would surely have been someone who wanted to compete for honor and glory in the Trimagus Tournament. Harry smiled a small smile at the memory of Flint and Wood, and how the two got along so well despite being supposed rivals. 

“Cedric Diggory will compete for Hogwarts.” Lovegood spoke up as she looked out at the half moon which hung in the sky, defying the rules which stated that it should only be visible during the night. 

“How do you know?” Neville blinked at the younger girl, leaning his head to the side. 

“The moon told me.” She nodded knowingly. “She only speaks in riddles, written in the sand of a moonlit beach by the moon alignment merfolks. Some call them mermaids, but they are tired of being placed within binary boxes, and prefer merfolk.” 

Nobody had the heart to tell Lovegood that the underwater people might not be all too aware of a giant space rock hovering miles and miles above their abode in the deepest parts of the sea. When living at the bottom of the ocean, the different tides would make little to no difference for the creatures. 

“Ron, it’s getting cold, do you mind closing the window?” Hermione glanced towards the red haired teenager, smiling carefully at him. 

“Oh yeah, sure.” Ron closed the window, then suddenly screamed. 

Only he wasn’t the only voice which was screaming. 

Then there was a subtle thud and Hermione let out a yelp. 

Ron had closed the window, only to find the reflection of a pair of big, yellow eyes staring up at him from around waist height. He spun around, pressing himself to the windowsill, as the owner of the yellow eyes screamed and retreated in the other direction and straight into Hermione’s knees. Draco got to his feet, as did Harry. Now that they were standing up, the two Slytherin students could see the yellow eyed creature for what, or rather, who, it was. 

“...Dobby?” Draco spoke up first, looking at the small elf, who was rubbing the back of his head. 

“Young Master!” Dobby raised his head, unable to stop himself from smiling as he spotted Draco and Harry. He was dressed in a small set of clothes, which appeared to be completely brand new. They fit him almost perfectly. He had a small dress shirt, a vest, a set of striped trousers and a pair of tiny shoes. Upon his head was a stylish yet small top hat. He looked healthy, happy and most of all confident. Nothing like the House Elf which Harry had met almost two years ago. He was so stylish that he rendered the House Elf behind him almost invisible. She was dressed in a shoddy dress made out of an old pillowcase, her feet bare and her expression sour. “Oh, no… Dobby isn’t… Dobby is sorry for the confusion, Young Mister Malfoy.” He bowed deeply. He made no effort to harm himself, or spoke of his life and existence as useless. 

Harry stared at him, a smile beginning to appear on his face as Draco gaped at his former servant. Hermione still didn’t know where to look or what to say. Ron stared, as did Neville, while Lovegood appeared as calm as ever. 

“Dobby… What are you doing here…?” Harry slowly began to speak, trying hard to stop himself from smiling. He felt like an idiot, but Dobby’s change was so dramatic that he didn’t know what else to do. It was incredibly relieving to know that the House Elf was no longer as self destructive as he had once been. 

“Harry Potter Lupin!” The House Elf beamed at Harry now. 

Well, it seemed like he still had some work to reach a person who Harry could actually spend time around. 

“You see, Dobby’s friend Winky has been very depressed lately, so Dobby thought that if she was taken to meet the Harry Pott-” he suddenly stopped speaking, frowned to himself, then spoke up once more. “Dobby misspoke, Harry Lupin.”

Harry blinked, finding himself laughing with relief and happiness as Dobby addressed him by his right name. He found himself grabbing Draco’s arm, beaming at the other teenager. 

“Well, Dobby through that Winky would be happy to meet Harry Lupin, as he is very nice to House Elves!” Dobby concluded, beaming at his friend. 

She looked like she wanted to feed his top hat to him, as a look of hatred flashed over her round features. She grabbed her ears in an outburst of desperation and stomped her feet. “No! No! No!” She whimpered. “Dobby speaks to his old Master! He addressed a hero without the proper title! He dresses in human clothes! Disgrace! Disgrace! Winky has been forced to leave her Master, and now she will become associated with Dobby the human House Elf!” She all but wailed. 

“H-hey… No, don’t…” Hermione got up and then got down on her knees, carefully pulling the elf’s hands away from her ears to stop her from hurting herself. “W-what are you doing?” 

“She is a House Elf, Hermione…” Ron spoke up as the House Elf glared daggers at the teenager. “They are like that, you will only make it worse if you try to intervene with her.” 

“Like that?” She echoed, blinking as she kept Winky from pulling her ears once more. “You want me to let her keep on hurting herself?” Other than seeing the House Elf at Malfoy Manor from afar, Hermione had never really interacted with House Elves, neither had she seen Dobby at his worst, or even known of his behaviours.

“No…” Ron admitted, chewing on his lower lip. “But they are sort of… trained to be punished for their failures…” The more he spoke, the more Ron realised that what he was saying was nothing he could stand for, or that he believed was a good thing. 

“And you… Is your House Elf hurting herself like this as well…? Punishing herself for… for… minor mistakes and the like?” Hermione looked at Draco, her eyes filling with uncertainty and blame. Harry almost wanted to intervene just to tell her that the new House Elf with the Malfoys wasn't being punished or abused, but wasn't the first who spoke up.

“My family owns House Elves as well, and they aren’t always being hurt for failures.” Neville had also noticed that Draco was becoming uncomfortable and stepped in to help him. “Hogwarts employs over a hundred of them for various chores around the castle. They are the ones cleaning and cooking for everyone, among other things.” 

“But that… that is slavery! I thought that Hogwarts hired and paid people to do those chores,” Hermione cried out as she got to her feet. “Look at this poor elf, she is not wearing shoes in October? And that dress is… it’s a pillow sheet!” 

“If you give a House Elf a piece of clothing, they will be freed from service.” Neville explained. “So they are often dressed in whatever they can use to make clothes out of.”

He was the only one who dared speaking to Hermione when she was like this. Everyone else in the room was worried that they would hurt her, insult her, or make her feel like an outsider as she didn’t know what they viewed as common knowledge. Not to mention that she really made them all realise just how enslaved the House Elves were. Informing her of their existence felt like an all too lacking explanation for something which they all should have identified as wrong a lot earlier. 

Hermione’s eyes were practically bulging as she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean that I have unknowingly benefited from slavery for three years? How… How could Hogwarts do this!? I… This can’t be right, we have to do something… make a petition to the Ministry… gather people, rise up… Something!” 

“Hermione,” Draco suddenly spoke up, his voice cutting through her panic as he addressed her by her name. “There is nothing you can do.” He stated the fact as clearly as he could. “This goes a lot deeper than you appear to understand. You are right, this isn’t right, and it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. However, very few people would agree with you in that it has to change. People do not tend to rise up against something they benefit from. The elves themselves couldn't actually rise up from their current position, neither would they dare to, and they might even reject you and their freedom.”

“N-no way…” She objected, as she turned towards the elves. She knew from knowing Draco that House Elves existed, but she had clearly never imagined that their existence was like this, as the Malfoy family’s House Elf was at the very least dressed better than this and possessed shoes for colder days. The way Hogwarts treated its House Elves was clearly far more traditional than the Malfoys' way of treating their servants. 

Winky had placed her hands over her ears, clearly rejecting Hermione’s attempts to talk to her about freedom and her own rights. Dobby looked guilty. He was poking at the ground in front of him with his feet, trying very hard not to look at any human in the room. 

The look on Hermione’s face could only be described as horrified understanding. When she looked back at Draco, there were traces of tears in her eyes. “This… there has to be a way to change this… Maybe we could go on a hunger strike and…”

“Hermione,” Draco stepped forward and carefully took her hands. “There are some things which can only be changed from up above. We are too young, and too few to actually change anything. However, that might not always be the case. You can work your way up, you can join the Ministry of Magic, and you can bring about change for real. See, right now a House Elf doesn't even have legal rights or protection, neither could they appeal to a Court. It will take time and effort, but going on a hunger strike at the age of fourteen to protest will only make people worry about your mind, not listen to your words.” 

“If you become the Minister of Magic, then you could definitely change a lot of things for Ho- I mean, elves.” Ron added in a helpful manner. 

Hermione sniffled and moved in to hug Draco, who happened to stand the closest to her. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed into Draco’s shirt. He didn’t mind, instead patted her back gently, letting her vent her emotions without interrupting. Anyone who had leant that they had been unknowingly benefited from slavery for three years had the right to feel upset enough to cry. 

“Uh… How have you been, Dobby? Have you been hired by Hogwarts since long?” Harry tried to avoid a scenario where everyone simply stared at Hermione while she exercised her right to cry. 

If Dobby realised what Harry was doing or not, Harry had no idea, but the House Elf did begin to speak in a hurried manner. “Oh, Dobby was looking for another job for a long time, but couldn’t find one. He came across Winky one day, after she had recently been…” He trailed off, giving his fellow elf a nervous look. 

Winky began to whine about being a disgrace to her Master and her Master’s honorable and wonderful name. If Harry remembered correctly, her Master had been Bartemius Crouch, but he wasn’t entirely sure. It was a little hard to tell with House Elves, but Winky did resemble the elf at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Well, we found our way to Hogwarts, and Mas-, pardon, Headmaster Professor Dumbledore accepted us into his service.” Dobby finished, smiling awkwardly as he wagged back and forth within his shiny shoes. “Dobby is even getting paid! Isn’t that something, Mr. Harry Lupin?!” He looked proud over this.

Winky’s whining rose to prominence once more. “DISGRACE!” She more or less shrieked. 

Dobby gave Harry a strained look which somehow held more personality than Harry would ever have imagined Dobby to possess. It very clearly communicated something along the lines of ‘do you see what I have to deal with?’ 

Dobby raised his voice over Winky’s whining, trying to speak to Harry as if she wasn’t there. “That is why Dobby has clothes now, he bought them for himself through a catalogue. Does Harry Lupin like Dobby’s hat?” 

“DOSGASE!” Winky was no longer making any resemblance of sense. 

Neville finally had enough. “Winky, right? You are dismissed, thank you for your contribution.” 

She sniffed and then disappeared with a plop which seemed ever so passive aggressive. 

Dobby breathed out, evidently relieved that she had left. 

Hermione pulled herself away from Draco, then went to search for a napkin within her bag with which to dry her nose off. Her absence allowed Draco to turn towards his former House Elf. 

“I like your clothes, Dobby.” Draco stated as he absently fumbled with his beloved silver snake cufflinks. “How much did you say that Professor Dumbledore is paying you?” 

“Headmaster Professor Dumbledore pays Dobby one Galleon a week, and lets Dobby have one day off each month!” Dobby looked proud of himself, puffing out his chest. “He offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends completely off every week, but, uh, Dobby thought that was far too much…” 

“I think you should have accepted it. It’s far less than most mages make, and even students get the weekends off.” Draco carefully supported Dobby. 

“Yeah, my dad makes more than that, and he is way underpaid.” Ron had crowned himself the king of the window sill and had placed himself atop it. “You should at the very least get as much as forty Gallons a month.” 

“You could buy yourself more hats.” Neville suggested. 

“And you’d be an inspiration to House Elves everywhere, allowing them to learn that they can be more than unpaid slaves.” Hermione continued, looking approvingly at Dobby. 

“An inspiration!” Dobby touched both his hands to his cheeks, quickly shaking his head. “No… not Dobby? He couldn’t possibly be anything more than a disgrace of a House Elf…?” He looked to Draco for support. 

The blonde teenager gave him a small smile in return. “Of course you could. You have the chance to be a positive example for your entire kind. You should beyond doubt take this chance to show what you can be, and not remain what you were.” 

Dobby’s cheeks heated and he shook his head again. “Dobby will… Dobby will think about it!” The small elf looked between the people gathered, seemingly swelling with pride as they all gave him approving smiles and nods. Even Lovegood, who had just been sitting still for the entire conversation, nodded. 

It was impossible to spend any time around Lovegood and not realise that the girl was heavily bullied. After all, she preferred to hide away with them by the Slytherin table, or study with them instead of with her classmates, at any chance she got. Harry had realised that she had taken to carrying almost all of her books around with her all the time out of fear that they would be stolen by her fellow students. Every time Harry had tried to initiate a careful conversation about it, she had launched into explanations about Nargles, or Bookwyrms, or something else which was hiding her possessions. Yet to Harry, it was becoming increasingly evident that her quirky behaviors and strange utterances were clearly a fantasy which she kept up to not face the reality of her situation as a bully victim. Harry had even seen her without shoes on a few occasions, which he had recently realised was not because she was quirky, but because someone had stolen them from her, leaving her shoeless in October. 

As Harry looked upon her now, he realised something else about the girl which made him slightly uncomfortable and ever so worried. It appeared that a self defense of Lovegoods’ was to utterly zone out when things got too overwhelming for her. She appeared to have been mentally absent for the entirety of the conversations with the House Elves, and had instead constructed another mental fantasy to protect herself and her mind from the situation at hand. Judging by what little Harry actually knew about Lovegood, it had probably been very hard for her to handle the House Elf yelling about ‘disgrace,’ as it was probably a word which she had likely had thrown at her from a wide variety of people throughout her short life. Both as the daughter of a werewolf, and the daughter of the man who self published _the Quibbler_. Harry wished that he had noticed something sooner, so that he might have taken Lovegood away from the situation for her own sake. No matter how fine Lovegood forced herself to be right now, she shouldn’t have had to experience the House Elf’s words, or witnessed her self-inflicted self-harm and self-loathing. 

How did one help someone who didn’t want to accept that she needed help? Was the better option to simply leave her be, or to force her to face reality and save her from her own delusions? The delusions themselves were not the problem, it was the fact that by pretending that the situation didn't exist, it would never change, there would never be means to make a change. Harry didn’t have the answer, and he didn’t have any better solution for the moment than to simply be Lovegood’s friend. Maybe that rather lackluster feeling solution was enough to help her in some small, meaningful way? After all, Dobby had changed, and Harry hadn’t really done anything to help him at the end of the day. Maybe Lovegood didn’t need someone to help her as much as she needed someone else to set the ball of change rolling. Then again, maybe Harry wasn’t the right person to do such a thing in the first place. 

Hermione spoke up, shattering Harry’s thoughts in a way which he desperately desired for the moment. She was speaking to Draco, looking at him with a look of disbelief. 

“You just… called me by my name…” 

Draco turned towards her, blinking at her as he played back his own memories to confirm her words to be true. “Oh.” He began, then continued with slightly reddened cheeks. “I should have asked you beforehand, I apologise if I-”

“No, no!” Hermione hurried to interrupt him. “I did… I mean, it is my name after all, why would I not want people to call me by my own name?” 

Draco smiled at her, his cheeks returning to their normal shade of moonlit parchment. “Then I will of course extend the courtesy to you using my name as well.” 

“Oh, like… Like Draco?” She squeaked, fumbling with her own hair as nervousness overcame her. 

“Yes, that is my name.” Draco couldn’t help but chuckle. “What did you think my name was?” He teased her slightly, giving her a friendly buff with his elbow. 

“Lucius Junior.” Ron responded from the windowsill, answering the question which wasn’t supposed to be answered. 

Harry and Neville both chuckled, unable to hold back from the unexpected comment. 

“No, that is, in fact, my middle name. Lucius that is, not Junior.” Draco sighed, shaking his head as he stared Ron down. 

Harry spoke up as a frown began to form on his face. “Now that you mention it, I think that I share my middle name with my birth dad as well…” 

“I don’t think I have one…” Neville frowned as well, as if he was trying to remember if he did or not. 

“N-neither have I…” Hermione hurriedly followed Neville. 

Ron sighed, resting his head in his hand as a pouty look formed on his face. “I shouldn’t say anything. I’m named after my uncle… Bilius… Thanks, mom…” 

“My middle name was stolen when I was just a child.” Lovegood’s answer translated to ‘I don’t have a middle name’ to Harry. “I am thankful that it was only my middle name which was stolen, and not my first name, or the toes of my left foot.” 

“Dobby is just Dobby.” The House Elf nodded to himself, looking satisfied with the short and concise identity which he happened to possess. 

The group slowly returned to their seats, and Dobby stayed with them for another half an hour to exchange pleasantries and simply speak. He left with a promise that he would speak to the Headmaster about his paycheck and about having the weekends off. Before he left, he asked Harry to give his best to ‘his father werewolf’ and wished them all a ‘good following year’ and ‘happy health’ before he simply disappeared. After his departure, the group stayed a little longer in their study room, before making their way to the Great Hall to eat dinner. 

Before going to bed that day, Harry took the time to write a letter to his dad, telling Remus about the delegates from the schools, Dobby, and relay Dobby’s message to his dad. He finished the letter by asking his dad to give the best to Snuffles, as he felt like Sirius would appreciate it. He left the letter on his desk to let the ink dry over the night as he went to bed, promising himself that he would send said letter first thing in the morning. 


	10. Chapter 9 - In which the names of the champions are drawn from the Goblet of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day passed without too much happening which was of interest for anyone, and yet the entire school and all the students seemed to be a tense mass of expectation and excitement. When the time finally came and the three schools and all the students gathered in the Great Hall, the atmosphere was almost suffocating. 

The next day passed without too much happening which was of interest for anyone, and yet the entire school and all the students seemed to be a tense mass of expectation and excitement. When the time finally came and the three schools and all the students gathered in the Great Hall, the atmosphere was almost suffocating. 

Even as Harry and his friends were gathering by the Slytherin table, they could hear people speculate all around them over who would be picked for the Trimagus Tournament. Victor Krum was an almost universal expectation for the champion from Durmstrang Institute, but nobody quite knew what else to expect. Harry had heard that Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff House was a likely candidate for Hogwarts, which explained where Lovegood had gotten the idea from, as neither Harry nor anyone of his friends believed in her reading moon messages from merpeople to obtain that information. Judging by the chatter all around them, nobody was sure what person might be expected to be selected as the champion from Beauxbatons Academy. It seemed that those students were a bit closer to each other in abilities than the selection from the other schools. 

The Great Hall had been decorated with banners from all three schools, proudly displaying the Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons emblems above the students’ heads. The candles which floated above them were not the usual warm tones, but instead shone with a blue light which matched the blue flame with the Goblet of Fire produced. The Goblet of Fire was resting next to the Headmaster’s podium, on top of a small stone column, immediately visible to anyone who entered the Great Hall through the main doors. 

Everyone was gathered, the teachers’ table was filled with people, and had to be extended by another, smaller table, to fit everyone. Harry spotted a few people who he recognised from the Quidditch World Cup together with the teachers, namely Luco Bagman, and Bartemius Crouch. Luckily, there was no problem fitting all the students by the four grand tables. Added to that was the bonus that the students were no longer expected to sit by their House tables, which allowed everyone to sit wherever they wanted. Thus, Harry’s group was once again complete with the three Gryffindor students, as well as Lovegood. 

It was with great expectation and excitement that Harry and his friends gathered around the Slytherin table, their attention on the Goblet of Fire and the Hogwarts Headmaster, who just stepped onto his podium and called for the attention of everyone gathered by raising his arms. 

“Dear students, honored guests, Hogwarts faculty, representatives of the Ministry of Magic” The old wizard began, smiling at them all in turn. “I have the great pleasure to not stall you any longer, and instead begin the announcement of the champions who will compete in the Trimagus Tournament.”

The Great Hall erupted in cheering. 

Professor Dumbledore smiled, then showed towards a door which was located behind the teachers’ table. “Those who are selected as champions are asked to proceed into the room behind that door, you will receive some brief information from Mr. Bagman and Mr. Couch, before you will rejoin the feast. From what I have been told, it is simply some practical information about the upcoming interview with _the Daily Prophet_ which will take place on Monday. Now let us not dwell, the first champion to have been selected is…”

His words appeared to have activated the artifact, as it suddenly flared up, sending a piece of seemingly scorched parchment into the air. The Headmaster, who was an old wizard, did not jump or try to capture the piece of parchment through physical means. Instead, the wizard moved his wand, causing the object to come to him, landing calmly in his hand, like a tired bird. 

The Great Hall appeared to collectively hold their breath. Harry could feel his heart beat faster in his chest, speeding off with a slightly alarming speed. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so invested, but concluded that it had to be because everyone else felt the tension within their bodies as well. 

“Victor Krum, from Durmstrang Institute!” Professor Dumbledore concluded. 

Cheers erupted everywhere, especially from the Durmstrang students. Harry could see Krum looking around, then be pushed forward by a friend. Only then did he seem to realise that he had been selected. A smile formed on his lips, and he rose to his feet, walking towards the door behind the teachers’ table. Karkaroff applauded enthusiastically with a rather smug look on his face, then rose to pat Krum on the back, speaking something into his ear before he allowed Krum to enter the room while the man remained outside. The display was a little odd, but not overtly strange. 

The Goblet of Fire flamed up once more, after Professor Dumbledore awoke it by declaring that the second champion had been chosen. Yet again, the piece of parchment was spit out of the flames, and came to settle within the Headmaster’s hand like a little paper bird. 

“From Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, we have Fleur Delacour!” 

The cheers were not as loud as they had been for Victor Krum as a student from Beauxbatons rose to their feet. The person swept some of their brilliantly blonde hair from their face as they headed towards the door behind the teachers’ table. The person in question was wearing trousers, and they appeared very gender neutral. As Professor Dumbledore had mentioned no pronouns, Harry felt more comfortable addressing the person with neutral pronouns in his head, as to pick a binary choice on random didn’t feel like the correct thing to do. The person disappeared without their Headmistress stopping them to speak to them, unlike what Karkaroff had done to Krum. 

“Finally, the last champion, representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is…” 

Another, final piece of parchment rose from the flames, yet again coming over to Professor Dumbledore to nest in his hand. He lift the piece of parchment, then read out loud:

“Cedric Diggory!” 

The Great Hall exploded into cheers once more, not quite as loud as for Krum, but louder than for Delacour, as most Hogwarts students within the Hall at least had a connection to the champion of their own school, compared to Delacour who was only known by their own school, and Krum, whom almost everyone knew. It was no wonder their applause varied so much in strength. 

Professor Dumbledore asked the students to extend an applause to all the champions as Diggory headed for the door, joining in on the final applause himself, before he spoke up once more. “Congratulations, champions. Now, with all the champions selected-” 

He didn’t get any further, as the Goblet of Fire flamed up one last time, sending a stay piece of parchment into the air, before it slowly fluttered towards the ground in front of the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall, as if it was mocking them all into silence. Professor Dumbledore slowly approached it where it had fallen, and picked it up to look upon the name written on it. Nobody even dared whisper as the old wizard raised his head, his gaze tracing the Slytherin table until they came to rest on Harry. Even from so far away, Harry could see the concern and worry within his eyes. 

“Harry Potter.” 

The Headmaster’s whisper was caught by someone, then whispered to the person next to them. Then on to another. The name spread in different directions, rising in volume until the entirety of the Great Hall seemed to be repeating it. The name of the person who didn’t really exist, the name of the illusive Harry Potter who had plagued Harry Lupin’s existence since he was a child. 

It felt like it had been so long, while it hadn’t really. He hadn't had to be associated with Potter for quite some time.

Harry didn’t immediately react or respond to the stranger’s name, but remained confused for a few moments, looking around at his friends. His mind caught on when he saw the terrified look on Hermione’s face from opposite of him at the table. Then, the force of the ever elusive but ever so powerful Harry Potter, the boy who didn’t exist, hit him with full force. It was him. It was his name which had been placed in an powerful magical artifact creating a binding contract to a dangerous tournament. Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe, and when Draco addressed him, worriedly grabbing onto his arm, he could see the teenagers lips move while not hearing a single word. 

All of his friends seemed to have come to the same understanding as him at various speeds, but most of them faster than Harry himself. Somebody had put his name in the cup. Somebody wanted to force him into the magical tournament. 

Professor Dumbledore seemed at a slight loss of what to do, but as the whispers turned into shouts, he made the choice of making certain that Harry was removed from the Great Hall as swiftly as possible so as to not have to face the cascade of words and accusations which were being thrown at him from all around the grand room. “Mr. Lupin, would you be so kind as to head to the room over there? Something must have gone wrong with the selection process, I ask everyone present to remain calm and to exercise respect while this unexpected occurrence is dealt with.” 

Later, Harry would suspect that the Headmaster might have cast some manner of spell on him, as he was up and halfway through the Great Hall before he had even had the chance to suspect that his legs wouldn’t carry him like they should. It might not have been the case, he might just have actually heard the man and somehow managed to run away when the opportunity was presented itself. He kept his head lowered, avoiding any and all gazes which were aimed towards him. Once he got to the back door, he more or less yanked it open and escaped inside the door, tears already threatening to roll down his cheeks as he got the door shut. 

Behind the door was a small room, which appeared to once have been a part of the banquet hall, but which had now become little more than a storage room for all things belonging to the Great Hall. The first thing Harry saw upon entering was the three selected champions, standing in a sort of semi circle. They appeared to have been chatting about something, Krum’s heavy accent was easy to distinguish from the French accent which was Delacour’s. Diggory’s familiar English accent was easy to distinguish as well, as it seemed so very common and boring next to the two far more foreign accents. They all stopped speaking when they spotted Harry. 

Delacour was the first to speak. “Yes? Has something gone wrong? Are you calling us back again?” 

“N-nnn…” Harry tried to speak but then shook his head. He felt like he was about to faint. 

“What did he say?” Krum looked to Delacour as they shrugged in response. 

Diggory realised that something was wrong, not only with the whole situation, but with Harry as well. He signalled for the other two to be silent, before approaching Harry and rather forcefully pulled him over to a chair so that he could sit down. “You just breathe, okay?” 

Harry nodded in response. 

“What did he say?” Krum asked Delacour once more, who simply relayed Diggory’s words to him with slight annoyance in their voice. 

Before anything else could happen between them, the door flew open and a collection of people entered, with Professor Dumbledore first, followed by Professor Snape, Mr. Moody, Headmaster Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, as well as Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch. Professor Snape wasted no time in hurrying over to Harry, taking Diggory’s place by his side. 

“That little brat sneaked his name into the Goblet!” Karkaroff wasted no time in pointing towards Harry, accusing him right away. 

“Igor, the boy’s name is Lupin in all but some legal documents.” Professor Dumbledore politely silenced the man’s first argument with a stern look, before he carefully patted Harry on the shoulder. “He would under no circumstances present himself as Harry Potter, he does not bear any guilt in the appearance of his name in the Goblet of Fire.” 

Harry sat numbly in the chair. He was trying to not listen to the words being exchanged, instead simply focus on Professor Snape’s hand on his shoulder. The touch of someone familiar was helping him orient himself, and made him feel safer in the situation.

“A clever ploy, to make certain none would suspect him!” Karkaroff was still angry, his face beginning to turn red as he spoke, his finger still pointing towards Harry. 

“Igor, if Albus says that the boy wouldn’t do it, then he is telling the truth.” The room was almost too small for Madame Maxime, and yet she remained dignified where she stood with her knees slightly bent. “I am more interested in Albus’ reasoning as to why the name appeared in the first place.” 

“Well, that one is easy.” Moody huffed. Until then, he had remained in the shadows, staying as far away from everyone as possible, while also placing himself so that his back was protected by a strong looking stone wall. He rested heavily against his walking stick, his brown eye locked on Karkaroff, while his blue eye wandered the room, almost avoiding looking at anyone altogether. “Someone must have placed his name within the Goblet, likely using a powerful hex to make it think that four schools were competing, rather than three, or maybe changed the number of contestants.” 

“Ah!” Karkaroff exclaimed. “This is a plot of Hogwarts to get more than one champion and gain glory it is undeserving of! One of you teachers at Hogwarts must have smuggled his name into the Goblet! All for eternal glory.”

Nobody, not even his own student, believed that statement to hold any weight whatsoever. Krum even bit his lower lip and looked to the side, seemingly embarrassed over the almost childish outburst of his Headmaster’s. 

“How Mr. Lupin’s name ended up in the Goblet of Fire isn’t important,” Professor Snape spoke up, sternly calling everyone’s attention back to what really mattered. “What is important is to get this child out of the Trimagus Tournament, rather than discuss how he ended up in it.” 

“Indeed. Severus is right. Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch, what does the rules say?” Professor Dumbledore turned towards the two representatives of the Ministry of Magic, a troubled frown curving his eyebrows into small half-moons above his brilliant eyes. 

“Well… The problem isn't really the rules, it is the fact that his name was even entered in the first place…” Mr. Bagman shifted from foot to foot, nervously avoiding everyone’s gaze as he almost danced in front of them. “You see, the Goblet of Fire is akin to a magical contract, it's a rather ancient form of magic, entering the name into it is akin to sealing the contract. The champions sign that they will use all of their powers and capabilities to win in the name of their school. You see, a champion cannot not compete, once they have been chosen. If somebody entered the boy's name for him, it would still be valid, as they would likely convey a clear image within their mind, or maybe use a possession of the child to make the spell recognise him.” 

Harry felt like he was about to faint, and he reached up to cling to Professor Snape’s arm, feeling like he was about to fall over. 

“However!” Mr. Bagman hurriedly continued to speak. “Despite the boy’s legal name, there is hope, if he really views himself as Harry… something, rather than Potter. Just as how a normal contract isn’t valid if someone else signs it, the fact that his mentally perceived name is so very different from the name on the contract means that he might not be as affected by this magical contract as the other contestants. That is to say, through a loophole, Mr. Not-Potter might not be as bound to the tournament as the rest of the champions. Hopefully.” 

“Can’t he be excused from it altogether?” Professor Snape continued to inquire as a slightly upset frown began to form on his face. “The judges and the Headmasters and Headmistress can all confirm that the boy does not want to be in the tournament, thus he should be excused.” 

“That is not how the magic which formed the contract works…” Mr. Bagman carefully objected. 

Mr. Crouch, who appeared as if he swallowed a sour lemon spoke next “he can only be disqualified if he attacks another champion during one of the trials. There is no other way to disqualify a person chosen by the Goblet of Fire. Not to mention that if Mr. Lupin is disqualified, it would, at worst, disqualify Hogwarts from competing in the tournament altogether.” 

“The man is right.” Mr. Moody agreed, licking his lips in a nervous, twitchy gesture. He was seemingly avoiding looking at the man, instead staring at the floor, rather than anyone in the room. Harry could hear that the man’s breathing was hard and strained. In some ways, Mr. Moody appeared all the more stressed to be in this room that Harry was. 

Harry wasn’t the only one who noticed his discomfort. Karkaroff spoke up, sending a glare towards Moody. “How are you doing over there, Mad-Eye? Age finally catching up to you? You seem nervous.”

The former Auror scoffed, then glared at the man with black, hateful eyes. “No, Karkaroff, just displeased to be stuck in the same room as two former Death Eaters, who have gone unpunished for their crimes.” 

“What you call ‘former Death Eaters,’ most call ‘heroes’ these days, as we did the right thing and helped bring about you-know-whose end!” Karkaroff bit back. 

“You fancy yourself a Hero these days, do you?” 

If Mr. Moody was about to say something more, he wasn’t allowed to by Professor Dumbledore, who silenced them both with a stern stare. 

“So we have no other choice than to have Mr. Lupin compete in the Trimagus Tournament…?” The Headmaster of Hogwarts looked towards Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch, seeking answers. 

Yet Karkaroff had found a final problem to hone in on, and he once more spoke up. “Lupin? Is that not the name of that werewolf who was exposed in your newspapers earlier this year? You’d have the son of a werewolf dishonor this tournament by being allowed to compete?” 

Harry couldn’t help but let a sob escape his lips. He was already completely mentally exhausted from all the things which were happening around him. To have the loud, intrusive man who was Karkaroff yell about his dad in a way which suggested that Remus, and subsequently Harry, were dirty or undeserving of participating in anything without dishonoring that something, was enough to make Harry’s tears finally escape from his attempted hold on them. 

“Igor. The man you speak of happens to be my partner.” Severus spoke up, his voice was so cold, so chillingly calm and direct that his words became like a knife, cutting through Karkaroff’s objection with a sharpness that was terrifying to face, judging by Karkaroff’s reaction. “I will not allow you to speak ill of him, or of his son. Am I making myself perfectly clear?” 

The Headmaster of Durmstrang nodded, suddenly becoming very busy with his own shoes. 

“Igor, it does not matter what you personally think of the person’s lineage. The Goblet of Fire has elected him, your words have no power here.” Madame Maxime stated, placing her hands on her hips as she looked down upon the much smaller man. 

“Yes!” Delacour spoke up as well, raising their voice to make certain that they were heard. “If what you are saying is true, then I, as a blood relative to a Veela, have less right to participate in this tournament than the adoptive son of a werewolf.” 

By now, Karkaroff had shrunk to quite the small size, avoiding everyone’s disapproving gazes which were being aimed towards him. He muttered what sounded like an apology, but as he didn’t aim it towards anyone, it ended up being a little unclear to who he apologised. 

Professor Dumbledore looked towards Harry, who was still hiding his face in his hands, and then looked around towards his fellow adults. “Everyone, I propose that we leave the champions here for a few moments to discuss between ourselves about the next course of action. Mr. Lupin deserves a chance to catch his breath and Madame Maxime should not be kept in such a confiding space. Please, come with me. Severus, I will need you with us, if you are able?” 

Professor Snape looked towards Diggory, who nodded towards him as he understood what the look was meant to communicate. 

“I will look after Mr. Lupin, Professor.” The older Hufflepuff student swore. 

It was enough for Professor Snape to leave Harry in his capable hands, before he followed the rest of the adults outside through another door, which brought them to an empty corridor where they could speak without stressing Harry out further. Harry was very thankful for the fact that he wouldn’t need to listen to them anymore, and simply allow himself to concentrate on not breaking together. Harry tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying hard to regain control over himself. Thus, he didn’t really hear what the other champions said when they began to speak between themselves. It was about him, but Harry didn’t care to know what they said. 

The conversation, which Harry did not pay attention to, went accordingly; 

“That is Harry Potter?” Delacour questioned, staring at Diggory as if he was at fault for Harry Potter being an inconspicuous mage, who was in fact unable to even stand up for the moment since his legs were shaking so much. 

“...Technically…” Diggory agreed with them. “It’s generally realised by anyone who knows him that Harry Potter is some icon, not a real person. He is Harry Lupin, Harry Potter is a legend.” 

“No, no but… He is just… ugh… what is word… Un bébé! Not a strong, capable wizard to best the Dark Lord. He is not but a bébé! We have all been taught that he was some… some unstoppable magic force, some great mage, not… not… so small!” They showed a small space between their index finger and thumb to properly communicate just how small they thought the legendary Harry Potter was. 

“Well…” Diggory hesitated. “He sort of killed the Dark Lord when he was a baby. A real béb- uh, baby… It’s a very commonly known and realised fact here in Britain.” 

Krum raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Harry. In particular, he was studying Harry’s non-athletic build and weak arms. “Do you actually believe that to be the truth? That a baby killed the Dark Lord?” 

Diggory’s cheeks turned red as he licked his lips, then shrugged. “Magic works in mysterious ways?” He concluded.

“Not so mysterious that a bébé can kill a Dark Lord.” Delacour objected. 

“The right word is ‘baby.’” Krum informed them. 

“Yes, I realised. I’m nicknameing him Bébé to hide my embarrassment for forgetting such a simple word.” They huffed at the world renowned Quidditch player in return, correcting some imaginary imperfection about their own hair.

Krum nodded. “Makes sense. Bébe it is.” 

“‘Nicknameing’ isn’t really a real word… But it works.” Diggory smiled weakly as he began to correct the other champion, but then thought better of it. 

“Is he any good?” Krum nodded towards Harry, still asking Diggory for answers, rather than aiming his questions towards Harry himself. 

“Pardon?” Diggory blinked at the Quidditch player in return. 

“He looks weak, if he isn’t any good with magic, then it stands to reason that this whole farce is an elaborate assassination attempt.” Krum continued. 

Delacour hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Not in front of Bébé! He is already upset, don’t scare him more.” 

“Oh yeah…” Krum didn’t even blink from being lightly tapped. “My bad. Sorry.” 

“His father is a teacher, but I’ve never really seen him perform all that outstandingly. He casts a pretty powerful Patronus I hear, but other than that, I always assumed him to be more of an academic type person than action oriented.” Diggory searched his memory for anything else which was noteworthy about Harry Lupin. “He can speak Parseltongue, once saved a student from Hufflepuff from being bit by a snake.” 

“Is his father really a werewolf?” Krum asked. “Or are people just confusing his father with someone else?”

“No, Professor Lupin truly is a werewolf.” Diggory confirmed. 

“I see.” Krum nodded, seemingly completely unbothered by the answer. “I thought it was better to know that not. Guess it feels slightly good that Mr. Karkaroff wasn’t just throwing things at him without any basis in fact, even though he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

Delacour snorted. “For a teacher to discriminate against anyone based on blood lineage is wrong.” They concluded, rather forcefully. 

“It especially shouldn’t be done in front of other students and teachers. Good thing that Professor Snape was able to deescalate the situation so smoothly.” Diggory concluded, causing the other two champions to agree with him by means of nodding along with his statement. “Besides,” Diggory added. “It might have been slightly uncomfortable to find out that Professor Lupin was a werewolf at the time, but he truly was one of the best teachers we’ve ever had in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Defense…? Do you not mean simply Dark Arts?” Krum asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, no, they do not teach Dark Arts in Britain.” Delacour informed him, shaking their head. They had a very theatrical way of speaking, often utilising their body to communicate what they were saying. 

Krum frowned. In contrast to Delacour, he wasn’t very animated at all, only ever changing the position of his eyebrows slightly to communicate his emotions to the world. “Ah, yes. It’s a little hard to remember. The whole concept is a little strange. Like being taught how to treat a wound without ever seeing a real wound." 

Diggory shrugged. “A little bit of a clash brought about by our cultural exchange, I imagine.” He smiled pleasantly at the Quidditch player, clearly not finding his conclusion faulty or appalling. “Your metaphor does make a lot of sense.” 

Before they had the chance to speak more about the subject, the teachers returned. Professor Snape wasted little time in returning to Harry’s side, while Mr. Moody remained by the door while the rest of the adults returned to the center. 

Mr. Bagman began to speak. “It has been decided by the judges as well as the Headmasters and Headmistress of the three completing schools that Mr. Harry Lupin must attend each of the trials as the magical contract will likely bind him and compel him to at the very least be present and participate, but he will be given extra information about each task as well as mental and magical support throughout the entirety of the Trimagus Tournament so that he may complete all the trials in a safe manner, which should allow no harm to come to his person, be it mental or physical.” He stopped to make sure that everyone was following him before he continued. “Thus, Mr. Lupin shall not attempt to win any of the trials, but instead simply make it through them without causing permanent harm to his person and mind, as he is far too young to be expected to compete in such a dangerous tournament. All judges, and every teacher who has the ability to assist him, will lend him their assistance to assure that these requirements are met.” 

“Further,” Mr. Crouch continued, looking tired and stressed, but nonetheless collected. “We will announce these matters to the world through the assistance of _The Daily Prophet_ , making certain that the public learns of this mistake, and knows the length that everyone involved will go through to assure the safety of the minor who was caught up in this demanding tournament.” 

Nobody had any objections. Diggory, Delacour and Krum all nodded, agreeing that Harry had to be kept safe from the tournament which he was in no way qualified to participate in, yet possibly forced to participate in by the means of a powerful binding spell. Not to mention that nobody in the room believed that Harry Lupin had chosen to place his name into the Goblet of Fire, not even Karkaroff once he had calmed down a little. The three actual champions even believed that Harry didn’t even have the required abilities to be able to compete in the tournament first place, which in turn lead them to believe that the person who wanted to, as Krum placed it, assassinate Harry, had gone so far as to make certain that the Goblet of Fire thought Harry worthy when he was not. 

“As long as your excuses don't take away from the actual tournament…” Karkaroff concluded. 

“They will not.” Mr. Bagman assured him with a smile which assured nobody. 

“Then my next statement to the champions goes as follows;” Mr. Crouch began to speak. “First Task will be taking place on 24 November and the champions have until then to figure out what the first task is and to best prepare for it. You will learn the details of the Second Task after completing the First Task. Further, you are all exempt from the end of year exams due to the Trimagus Tournament, and will more than likely have to retake this year, as you are already aware of. I will warn you now that the first task involves facing a larger magical creature, so at the very least, you should master some protection spells so that you are all at the very least safe. Tomorrow, Monday at 10 in the morning, you are to gather here in the Great Hall for the mandatory wand examination, press coverage, and the rest. It would be good if you looked your best, but it is of course not mandatory. You are not required to attend any classes tomorrow, as your day will be rather busy.” Mr. Crouch concluded. 

Finally, the room was being emptied of people, leaving Harry and Professor Snape alone. Harry slowly raised his head as the man knelt before him. Whatever the Potions Master had planned on doing next was quickly interrupted by Harry’s next action, namely to throw himself into the man’s arms, breaking together utterly against his chest as he clung to him. Of what little words Harry managed to express, it was easy to understand that he didn’t want to compete in the Trimagus Tournament, and that he was terrified and hurt by having to do so either way. His words quickly became nothing more than sobs and wails. 

Professor Snape accepted Harry into his arms, carefully stroking the teenage boy over his head and back while he allowed him to cry against his chest, sparing not even a stray thought about his own appearance or the mess Harry’s breakdown would cause upon his clothing. He assured the crying son of a werewolf that he would bring Remus to him first thing in the morning, and that his dad would be there for him when he woke up. 

It took a long time before Harry had calmed down enough to be even remotely capable of returning to the Slytherin common room and his own dormitory, but in the time it took for him to calm down, the man who was his dad’s lover remained with him during it all, supporting him through it. Just like Severus Snape had done so many years ago when Remus Lupin had broken down upon his shoulder as a young teenager, equally crushed by the world, and equally needing the help of someone who might even be considered a friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **The Goblet Of Fire**  
>  It has been very tricky to turn the logic of this particular magical artifact around and make sense of it. No matter how one truly looks at this particular artifact, it's a plot device to enforce the plot forward, but one which raises a lot of questions in regards to how it works and how it could exist within the lore. 
> 
> Luckily, specific contract magic isn't unheard of historically, and among other things relatively common in Irish, earlier Celtic, folklore. A geas was known as a form of magic which enforced/prohibited a certain action within an individual, an immensely powerful but also rather simple form of magic. It could potentially be an earlier form of or pre-stage of the Imperius Curse, but such matters have not been recorded within the lore, thus it is uncertain. This means that the champions will feel compelled to actually compete, and it will affect them, hence the very strict review of them. 
> 
> The Goblet of Fire is a magical artifact infused with a geas to compete within the specific tournament. It can be altered in how many schools and people are elected to compete, but the rest is binding. As of currently, they aren't certain to what degree this geas will affect Harry.
> 
> This gives context and explanation to how a creation such as The Goblet of Fire can exist. The fact that it was created in the first place isn't very strange, as humanity is known for being too busy to think of whether or not they could accomplish something to stop to think whether or not they should. If nothing else, it sure is a display of power for the sake of awe.
> 
> The second issue and inconsistency is the cup's awareness, and ability to know and read information. Similarly to the issue with the Marauder's Map's awareness of made up recorded identity, the Patronus's idea of an absolute form of animal symbolism, and Tom Riddle's Diary displaying powers and awareness which renders certain actions and consequences needless, there is no such absolute concept of being 'worthy.' 
> 
> In this lore, the cup has simple measuring magic being able to evaluate and recognise the magic ability of the person who puts the note in the cup, which is why it is absolutely essentially for the champion candidates to put their own names in the cup. This means that Harry was only elected because whoever put his name in the cup is worthy of competing, yet very likely used something physical, like a strand of his hair, to figure out a way to trick the device.
> 
> A lot of systems in the real world do not quite work out flawlessly and has a lot of loop holes; magic is no different in the aspect of that people make things up and have to make it work. This is the primary reason why they've tried to keep the cup as safe and hidden as possible, and out of reach for people to abuse it, because it can be abused, clearly. 
> 
> The use of the artifact displays the desire to view magic as something extraordinary and powerful, and is not uncommon in mage history.


	11. Chapter 10 - In which an interview goes very wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry took a deep breath, looking up at his dad, giving him a careful smile. “I will do it. All I need to do is make certain that people know the truth, and then I can go back to being Harry Lupin, instead of being forced to be Harry Potter.”

In hindsight, Harry didn’t remember a lot of the evening. He was assisted by Professor Snape, who helped him return to the Slytherin common room, and then to his dormitory. Harry remembered Draco being with him, as well as Nott, Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson. He remembered trying to tell the story, but mostly ending up crying against Draco’s chest over and over, until he simply fell asleep from exhaustion. 

The beginning of the next day wasn’t any more fun. Harry stayed in the shower for what felt like hours, hiding in a curled up position against the wall, while the water rushed over him. Draco came to check on him every now and then, but mostly let him be, he didn’t try and force Harry to come outside. 

When he did exit the shower, Draco was there to help him get ready for the day, which meant that he was effectively skipping school to attend to Harry. Normally, such a thing would make him feel bad, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care for the moment. 

It appeared that Harry had somehow managed to tell Draco about the activities which he was expected to perform that day, as his socially and politically aware friend took the time to help him get his hair in some resemblance of order, then lent him an expensive feeling shirt and an even more expensive looking bolo tie, which decoration was a green gem which was held in place by a silver dragon which resembled a snake. He had no trousers which would fit Harry, but with some socks, they, mostly Draco, managed to lend Harry a pair of shoes as well. Draco asked if Harry would allow him to put some makeup on him, mostly to make him appear less broken up when he was interviewed by a representative from _The Daily Prophet._ Harry agreed, if only for his own comfort in not wanting the entire world to know that he had been crying for hours the day prior. 

It was somewhat uncomfortable to be dressed up like it, especially when Harry was feeling drained and plain bad, but upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little excited, as he found himself to look rather handsome. Draco had mostly layered dark colors on dark colors, which allowed Harry further comfort in not being too far out of his general comfort zone. The dark dress shirt even had reasonable sleeves, and not giant bell sleeves which was the preferred shape of Draco’s not-necessarily-for-everyday-school-purposes wardrobe. 

It was a small relief, but it made him feel just a little better, at the very least. Draco seemed satisfied with the result as well. He tried to have Harry accept a pair of cufflinks to go with his outfit, but Harry politely declined. It was one thing having an expensive bolo tie, which was rather secure around his neck, but to have a pair of expensive cufflinks which might fall off at any time was an entirely different matter. 

It took a little longer for them to leave the Slytherin common room and dormitories, as Harry was struggling to be able to exit his safe haven. However, the fact that they were heading to Professor Snape’s offices was another small relief. That relief became immensely bigger when the door to said office was opened to reveal Remus and Snuffles inside of it, as well as an aroma of chocolate. Someone of the three men, technically two men and a dog, had realised that Harry likely hadn’t eaten breakfast that day, so they had arranged for breakfast to be sent to Professor Snape’s office. There was enough for both Harry and Draco, as none of the adults had expected Harry to come alone. 

“Harry…” Remus was by his son’s side in seconds, wrapping him into his arms and holding him tight enough for Harry to start crying once more as he clung to his dad. 

Snuffles barked and ran up to Harry as well, then struggled with what action to perform, only to whimper and returned to the space where he had started, looking slightly disappointed in himself. The disappointment seemed to instantly disappear once Draco passed the dog and took a moment to give it a few pets, in greeting his distant dog-uncle.

“Mr. Malfoy, I trust that you will return to your classes after Mr. Lupin is called away for his Trimagus Tournament duties.” Professor Snape addressed Draco as a chair turned to invite the blonde wizard to be seated. “Although I do not encourage you skipping classes, I will nonetheless reward you with ten points for your concern for your fellow classmate. Ten points to Slytherin.” 

Draco shrugged as he sat down, appearing passively unimpressed with his superficial rewarded points. “Naturally. Mental health goes above the need to perform.” He concluded as he reached for a cup of tea which had just pushed itself within his grasp.

Snuffles barked in support of that statement. 

Professor Snape turned towards Harry and Remus, who were still remaining by the now closed door. Harry had stopped crying, but he remained clinging to his dad, truly unable to figure out any other action than to hold on to him. “Remus, you should truly persuade your son to eat something before he attends the wand weighing ceremony.” 

“Oh, yes… Of course…” Remus led Harry towards the chair which had been waiting for him all this time, and showed for him to sit down. 

Harry let himself be led, then thankfully reached for the first thing he saw, and began to eat it. It happened to be a piece of bread with pumpkin jam, which was sweet enough to make Harry feel happier with just the first bite. The adults, dog, and his best friend watched him eat, yet Harry wasn’t bothered by their glances, as he only had eyes for his breakfast. 

“Mr. Malfoy, I don’t recognise Harry’s clothes, did you lend them to him?” Remus engaged in small talk as his son ate. 

“I did indeed.” Draco confirmed, looking proud over himself. “I would have wanted to dress him up a little more, but I know that it is not what Harry wants, so I made certain to choose a shirt which would suit his tastes.” 

Harry looked up from his breakfast. “Thank you.” 

“Think nothing of it.” Draco smiled at him. 

Even through his misery, Harry couldn’t help but think that Draco had the most pleasant smile there had ever been. It didn’t make him overwhelmingly happy or confident, but it made Harry feel appreciation for his friend, which helped him feel slightly less miserable. 

“Harry, do you… feel comfortable with today?” Remus carefully spoke up, looking at his child with hints of worry showing in his eyes and upon his face. “If you do not, you don’t have to participate. This is nothing you chose, and you have no obligation to attend any of these… not mandatory activities. I’m certain Mr. Ollivander would understand, and perform the wand checking ceremony on your wand without the need for you to go through the photoshoot and the interview and all that.” 

Harry thought about it, sinking into a deep silence as he turned all of the information over in his head. It was an easy solution to just run away from it all, to hide in bed, or in the shower, or in Professor Snape’s office. He could run, but there might be consequences afterwards. Mr. Crouch had spoken about using the newspaper to help spread the truth behind the incident with the Goblet of Fire and the fourth champion. If he did not participate, he would have no power over what was said, and that could lead to the possibility of, well, anything being said on his behalf. However, if he used the interview to his own advantage, he could get his own story out there, in a major newspaper, for everyone to read. That seemed far better than letting anyone control his words without his input. Not to mention that it was probably better to have his wand checked alongside the others, as to not trouble Mr. Ollivander. 

It seemed all the more useful to take charge of the situation, and join in with the other champions, rather to allow this whole thing to spiral out of his hands. Harry took a deep breath, looking up at his dad, giving him a careful smile. “I will do it. All I need to do is make certain that people know the truth, and then I can go back to being Harry Lupin, instead of being forced to be Harry Potter.” He spoke the name as if it was the name of a stranger, for it very much was. 

Remus carefully returned the smile, then bent down and hugged his son once more. “You’re not alone, Harry. Everyone around you will make sure that you come out of this safely.” 

Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around his very tall dad, and hugged him back. He knew that his dad was right. He only needed to do this one last thing, and then the adults around him would help him with the rest. Harry dared to believe that things might be alright. 

The photography studio was a little room which had been set up for the sole purpose of photographing the champions. It had everything which Harry associated with picture day, and he immediately felt uncomfortable with himself as he knew that he was about to be put up on display and posed in ways to make him appear as part of a set. Normally, he had the comfort of being with people his own age during picture day, but now, he was paired with three almost adults, who were all far more handsome than Harry felt himself to be. 

Krum was dressed in a very similar way to how Karkaroff generally dressed, his already big frame being made bigger with layers of expensive looking fur. His color palette was a calm wine red combined with black and dark furs. He appeared calm and disinterested. Harry got the feeling that he would have been equally disinterested and calm had he been dressed is nothing at all. Harry admired his attitude, he wished that he could adapt some of it. 

Diggory was dressed sort of similarly to Harry, but in a way that he had grabbed whatever he had found in his wardrobe which appeared fancy enough for a photoshoot. It seemed that, tragically, Diggory had no one like Draco to help him with his appearance. Nonetheless, the hair looked good. He truly didn’t look that different from the previous day he still wore his House colors, but his hair had been styled. His appearance made Harry wonder if he himself appeared dressed up. Compared to Krum’s attire, surely both Harry and Diggory appeared lackluster in comparison? 

Then there was Delacour, who made everyone else appear as if they were homeless people who hadn’t even bothered to wash their faces before entering the makeshift photo studio. Harry’s first impression of them was that they looked like a prince. Their pale hair had been pleasantly curled to fall from their shoulders in soft waves, making their comparatively slightly smaller head appear a little bigger. Their makeup made their cheeks a little redder, their cheekbones a little higher, and their lips a slight red which would have looked natural had Harry not know what their face looked like without the slight exaggeration of the makeup. Their clothing consisted of tight, white trousers which left little to imagination, high brown boots with intricate leather workings. The top piece jacket was a highly elaborate piece in light blue colors with white details. The jacket was cinched at the waist, making the padded shoulders appear far larger. Across that waist was a beautiful leather belt which matched their shoes, into which their pale wand had been safety secured. Upon their hands, they wore a set of white, decorated gloves which looked to be made out of a very soft fabric. 

Harry really hoped that he wouldn’t have to stand next to them in the photo, as they were simply that well dressed while he was not. 

The photographer, a man with a badge which said ‘Press’ upon it, began to gather them together for the photographing. “If the lady will sit down on the chair and the men gather behind her, that should do the trick.” He said, while peering through his camera at the chair which had been arranged for the photo. 

“What did he say?” Krum turned towards Diggory, asking with a small frown. 

“He said that the lady should come over and sit in the chair.” Diggory shrugged. “Do you think he means me?” 

“Surely, the photographer is confused.” Delacour stated with a theatrical sigh. “As there are no women present here, and even if there were, it would seem rather patronising and unprofessional to have only the woman sit.” 

“Very unprofessional.” Krum agreed, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

“Very.” Harry nodded. 

The photographer looked up, peering at Delacour. He then licked his lips and nodded to himself. “You are correct, that was very unprofessional of me. I did not pay attention. I apologise.” 

Diggory shrugged. “Apology accepted. I am not permanently offended.” Rather than leaving Delacour to have to defend themselves in any way, Diggory pretended that the careless comment to have been made about him. Someone else might not have appreciated the gesture, but Delacour seemed to approve of it. 

“Perhaps Bébé should sit?” Delacour commented. “Since he is the smallest.” 

Harry looked around to confirm that he was ‘Bébé.’ He had no idea where the name had come from, but he surrendered to the nickname without question. It didn’t sound like it was an insult, and he really didn’t have the energy to care about what people called him. As long as it wasn’t ‘Potter.’ 

“Should I really?” Harry looked up at the taller champions. “I’m not really a champion, why should I get to be in the front? That seems a little… trophy-like to me…?” 

Diggory, Krum and Delacour looked at one another, all of them considering his words. 

“Then let's just take more than one photo.” Diggory concluded as he looked over towards the photographer. “One with the three of us for the front page, and then another of the four of us for the inside of the paper.” 

“Good idea.” Delacour nodded, then gently moved to guide Harry towards the chair in the middle of the photo studio. “Stretch your back up, lean your head a little forward, and for all you do, don’t curl together. You will look great.” They promised the words as they let go of him to take a position to the right of Harry’s chair. Diggory accepted his position in the middle, while Krum came to stand to the left of Harry. None of the champions actually stood by Harry’s chair as much as they stood behind it. 

The photographer guided the shoot, making sure to take pictures of them all together, then without Harry, only to then photograph each of the champions alone. Harry politely declined to have a photo taken of him alone, as he didn’t trust that the photography wouldn’t end up somewhere he didn’t want it. If he wanted a picture of himself, he would ask Colin Creevy to take it for him, as that would mean that he didn’t surrender his ownership of his own picture to a major newspaper. Harry wasn’t a paranoid person, but he wasn’t trusting enough to believe that _The Daily Prophet_ would not use ‘Harry Potter’s’ photograph for something he hadn’t agreed to. The newspaper was not very trustworthy to Harry, seeing what it had published about his dad that very same year, costing the man his dream job in the process. 

Afterwards, the weighing of the wands ceremony took place. This time, Headmaster Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, as well as Diggory’s father, Amos Diggory, and Harry’s dad were present alongside their wards and sons. 

Remus initially appeared to be very uncomfortable, but Madame Maxime took up position next to him, and made certain that anyone who addressed the werewolf did so with proper respect, else face her. Madame Maxime was evidently a half giant, and while she did not explicitly make this fact known, she was nonetheless intent on displaying her position in regards to the fact that blood lineage had no practical effect on magic abilities. Thus, the half giant made a point to assure that the werewolf was not hounded by the press, or discriminated against by anyone else in the room. A headmistress usually made a very compelling case for respect, but when she was as large of a figure as Madame Maxime, people had little choice but to listen to her. 

The weighing of the wands ceremony was surprisingly simple. Mr. Ollivander greeted Harry and Diggory, whom he apparently remembered since he had sold them their wands, and then proceeded to have them all cast a simple spell each. After this, he looked over each of the wands, and deemed them all worthy of use in the Trimagus Tournament. He then proceeded to inform them all of what respective oils they should use to improve the capabilities of their wands and stop them from breaking after long term use. Mr. Ollivander commended Cedric for being the best out of them when it came to taking care of his wand, but other than that, the ceremony wasn’t too noteworthy and concluded rather quickly. 

Following the ceremony came the, to Harry, much dreaded interview with _The Daily Prophet_. It consisted of two parts, or rather, five parts, if one was to be technical. Firstly, Mr. Crouch spoke for the three schools, and the Ministry of Magic, explaining and addressing how four champions had come to attend the Trimagus Tournament rather than the expected, traditional number of three. A few journalists had arrived to conduct the interviews, accompanying them were their photographers, which made for a total of six additional people.

There were quite a number of questions aimed towards Mr. Crouch from the journalists, but they primarily came from a woman with blonde, curled hair and a pair of red glasses. Her red painted nails matched her glasses in a way which made her look colorful, but also put together. She was dressed in green robes, which had a thick fur collar as well as fur by the end of the sleeves. Next to her hovered a roll of parchment and a quill in a poisonous green color. Somehow, her parchment had far more words written on it than any other journalists’, judging by how much of the roll she had already used up. 

The separate first part of the interview concluded, and the champions were divided up to conduct separate interviews with the journalists. Harry assumed that he was going to have to wait until last, but to his surprise, the woman with the red glasses and nails approached him, and quickly requested his time for an interview with her. Harry found that there was something rather artificial about her smile, and he was somewhat unsettled by the way the green quill was still writing on the parchment despite him having said nothing to the journalist yet. 

“S-sure…?” Harry heard himself more or less squeak out a response. 

“Excellent, Mr. Potter!” She grabbed a hold of him, and pulled him towards the other end of the room inside which they were in, likely to avoid having to shout over the other voices which were beginning to request interviews with the champions. 

Harry didn’t like her touching him at all, but out of fear of appearing like a prude in front of a journalist, he allowed himself to be pulled away by her. However, he made sure to glance towards his dad, assuring himself of the fact that Remus was there and would come to help him if he needed it. His dad appeared bothered by the whole situation, but Harry signalled to him that he was fine. Remus didn’t appear convinced, but he let Harry be, respecting his son’s choice. 

“Well, Mr. Potter!” The woman all but cheered as she seated herself in front of Harry, leaving forward to peer at him with a gaze which made Harry feel like he was her prey and that she planned on eating him. “The readers of _The Daily Prophet_ have long desired to meet you, tell our readers all about yourself! How long have you known that you would be in the Trimagus Tournament? How did you convince a teacher to sneak your name in for you? How did-”

“Excuse me.” Harry stated very firmly, as she shattered all his patience and willingness to be pleasant to this woman the more she spoke. “My name is Lupin. Harry Lupin, not Potter. You are making some very heavy statements right there, none of which are true. Not to mention that-”

She cut him off by laughing at him. Harry stared at her in horror, completely unable to comprehend that someone had just laughed at his defense for himself. It made him feel horrible to know that someone would listen to the correction of his name and find it worthy of being laughed at. As if his identity and his claim to his own identity was just a joke in the eyes of this adult. 

“You don’t want to be cited as Harry Lupin.” She told Harry in an almost sugary sweet voice, as if Harry was but a stupid child. “Everyone will mix you together with that werewolf we exposed last year, you don’t want to be associated with a werewolf, now do you, Harry?” 

Harry had never before felt inclined to violence, but when he heard this stranger belittle him, his name, and his identity, to only then claim his dad to be nothing but ‘an exposed werewolf,’ he felt a wave of rage wash over him. Harry got to his feet, staring down at the journalist with such disgust that he had never before displayed. “That’s Lupin to you, ma’m. And this interview is over. I have no intentions of speaking to you or anyone else from your _Daily Prophet_. Excuse me.” He spoke every word as if it was a curse which he spit at her, yet took excruciating care in making his words polite enough that they couldn’t easily be used against him. 

She objected, but Harry had already turned away from her and her photographer, making his way towards his dad. He was very thankful that she let him go, instead of attempting to stop him. Harry collided with his dad in a hug, clinging to him yet again. Remus stroke over his son’s head, allowing Harry to remain where he was. He didn’t say anything, simply wordlessly assisted his son with his presence. Next to them, Madame Maxime stepped forward, positioning herself so that her giant frame shielded Harry from view from the unpleasant woman’s photographer, who had turned his camera to follow Harry as he left them. As he noticed that the Headmistress of Beauxbatons had covered the object of his interest up, he lowered the camera once more. It didn’t take long for the duo to go pick up Diggory for an interview instead, but anyone looking at them could tell that they weren’t satisfied with the way things had unfolded. 

Remus thanked Madame Maxime, but she simply smiled at him, shaking her head. She didn’t answer in words, but her body language communicated that she did not feel the need to be celebrated for doing the right thing. At first, she avoided speaking as she noticed that Harry appeared to be approaching an sensory overload, and she wanted to avoid triggering it for him. 

However, a few minutes later, after she concluded that Harry was no longer needed for anything in the room, the woman encouraged Remus and Harry to leave altogether so that the teenage boy could get some rest. She had further concluded, based on evidence, that Remus was Professor Snape’s partner, and therefore assumed, not incorrectly, that he could find a calm place for Harry to rest. Remus thanked her once more, then brought Harry with him to Professor Snape’s office, where Snuffles was waiting for them. Remus transfigured a chair into a comfortable armchair for Harry, and let the boy sit down to simply rest. Snuffles curled together by Harry’s feet, wagging his tail as he looked up upon the son of a werewolf. 

Harry hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but after a few moments, he was completely knocked out, snoring softly as he sank deep into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Important Note ---  
>  **Rita Skeeter**  
>  We want to make a note that we have not in any way changed the appearance of Rita Skeeter from what she is described as in Harry Potter, however we could not condone Rowling's problematic and frankly dehumanising way of presenting her.
> 
> Sharp and hard features contrasting feminine presentation is not problematic, not unattractive by default, and not wrong. Cheap jewelry is the choice of a person and what they like and enjoy to be seen in, not a sign that somebody is shallow. Artificially altered and controlled appearances, hairspray, heavy makeup and similar does not automatically make a person false. 
> 
> Most importantly of all, larger, more masculine appearing hands, are not a sign of something negative or even something which should be pointed towards as a flaw of a woman, as it rather effectively reaches discriminatory territory. 
> 
> We do not condone Rowling's way of presenting the woman, the way she has with several other characters in the story; someone's appearance is not directly correspondent to whether or not they're a good or bad person. The things which make Rita Skeeter unpleasant have to do with her behaviours and morals regarding her own work, not her appearance.


	12. Chapter 11 - In which the future and the past are discussed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t like this, Remus.” Sirius Black sat down on top of Snape’s desk, crossing his legs as he stared at his old friend with a stubborn look upon his face. “I don’t like this at all.” He enforced when the werewolf didn’t even turn to look at him. 
> 
> “Sirius, turn back again, please.” Remus rubbed his forehead as he turned towards him, the tired look on his face made him appear older. 

“I don’t like this, Remus.” Sirius Black sat down on top of Snape’s desk, crossing his legs as he stared at his old friend with a stubborn look upon his face. “I don’t like this at all.” He enforced when the werewolf didn’t even turn to look at him. 

“Sirius, turn back again, please.” Remus rubbed his forehead as he turned towards him, the tired look on his face made him appear older. 

Sirius stubbornly stared back at him, refusing to move from on top of the slightly clustered but neatly arranged desk.

He was dressed in a combination of Remus’ and Harry’s old clothes, his upper body was a little too big for Harry’s shirts, and far too small for Remus’ shirts; his legs too long for Harry’s trousers, and still too short for anything Remus’ could ever have fit into. He had chosen to wear Remus’ bigger shirt rather than a too small one, and a pair of Harry’s old trousers, which were too short, but not too small. 

The fact that he was roughly the same size as a fourteen year old did some things to Sirius’ confidence but he pretended that he didn’t mind. He blamed it on still being underweight, and promised himself that one day, these trousers would not only be too short, but also too small. 

“This is clearly an assassination attempt aimed towards Harry, and they all act as if it’s just a minor inconvenience!” Sirius wasn’t screaming at his friend, but he raised his voice slightly. 

Remus glanced towards the shape in the armchair which he himself had transfigured for his son. “Please, Harry is sleeping. Don’t wake him up.” 

“Then get your butt over here so that I don’t have to scream to be heard.” Sirius pointed like he was directing a dog, onto the spot next to him on the desk. He refrained from thinking about the fact that said butt had probably never fit into anything as small as the trousers which Sirius had inherited from his own godson. 

Remus sighed, but he did come over to stand next to Sirius. He did not take up on the offer of sitting on his partner’s desk, mostly out of respect, but also because he couldn’t actually fit next to Sirius on the desk. He glanced down at him, but then turned to position himself in a way which allowed him to see his child more clearly. 

“We talked about this yesterday when Severus came to get us…” Remus spoke up in a small voice, leaning in towards Sirius as he spoke so as to not bother the sleeping teenager. “Your argument makes just as little sense now as it did yesterday.” 

“No, but think about it, Rem…” Sirius felt annoyance throb in his chest, affecting his tone of voice. “Why else would anyone put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire and force him to compete in this, actually dangerous, tournament? It has to be a plot to get him killed during the trials.” He was completely convinced that he was right. 

“That doesn’t make sense, I keep telling you… The Trimagus Tournament has been carefully crafted so that nobody will be in risk of dying this time. It makes little sense to use such a carefully monitored event to try and get to one child. It is a school tournament for young adults, not some sort of death trial.”

“Teenager.” 

“T-teenager… Yes, you are right.” Remus licked his lips, looking between his friend and his son. He didn’t look upset or sad, his expression communicated a mix of pride and disbelief. Remus couldn’t believe that his son had grown up so fast, that he was already a teenager. The idea of being a father had been so impossible to him, and here he was, the father of a teenage son. 

They were silent for a few seconds, before Sirius spoke up once more. “Karkaroff is a former Death Eater, he could have slipped Harry’s name into the Goblet. He actually had the chance, and the motive of wanting to use the Trimagus Tournament to try and kill Harry.” 

“Former. Former Death Eater, Sirius.” Remus stared down at his friend, shaking his head with disapproval. He raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck while absently chewing on his lower lip. “Karkaroff is considered a hero after his actions to assure the capture of a collection of notorious Dark Lord supporters. Including Bellatrix LeStrange, as you are well aware of.” 

Remus really was tired of him, if he felt the need to remind Sirius of the capturing of his cousin to make him listen.

Sirius clicked his tongue, looking away from the taller man with an angry look on his face. He muttered out his response, “but that doesn’t make him a good person.” 

“Nobody said he was a good person. You don’t have to be a good person to do the right, or even the good thing. Matter of fact is, that he still did the right thing.” Remus carefully reached out to touch Sirius’ arm, gently grabbing it before pulling his old friend to lean against his chest. 

Sirius didn’t resist, but allowed himself to fall against the much taller man’s chest. He sighed, then closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Rem… I’m worried that you are forgiving people too easily. With your boyfriend being a former Death Eater as well.” 

“And my best friend being a madman from Azkaban?” Remus asked gently as he petted Sirius’s head, causing his locks to bounce slightly. 

“Yeah, something like that…” Sirius nuzzled against him before he pulled back and smiled at the man. The smile quickly froze on his lips. “I mean it though, I don’t trust Karkaroff. I’ve accepted that Snape is a former Death Eater, so I’m clearly not being discriminatory here.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he believed his own words, and it quickly became evident that Remus wasn’t convinced either. 

“It’s not as if I am completely comfortable about the fact that Severus was a Death Eater when he was younger. Especially since he chose that path for himself, compared to, well, me being a werewolf, which was forced upon me. However, both you and I know that he never believed in any of those things, and only joined them because he feared for his own safety, and wanted somewhere to belong."

Sirius scoffed at the other, and refused to meet his eyes. He really didn't want the reminder of why Snape joined the Death Eaters. He was already pretty busy blaming himself for pretty much everything else in his life, and in Remus' life at that, and at the loss of his best friend's life.   
  
When he didn't speak, Remus continued.

"What good does it do anyone to hunt a man down and prosecute him for crimes which he has been trialled for and deemed innocent in? I know for a fact that the mark hurts him every day. Not physically, but mentally. It’s a reminder that he chose the wrong path. If anyone sees it now, he will become no better than a monster in their eyes. People have every right to be upset with, and scared by, the people who bear his mark, but that doesn’t remove the fact that some people are trying to atone, and to do better. If we do not allow them to regain their, well, humanity by choosing to do the right thing, then I believe that it is us who failed them.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes, then kicked the air in front of him. He didn’t want to listen to this perspective. He didn't want the guilt. He didn't want to feel responsible. It was so much easier to imagine them all as bad, evil freaks, like Bellatrix LeStrange, who just wanted to do bad things and not be held responsible. “Some things can’t be forgiven.” He finally muttered, trying very hard to not lose himself down a path of bad memories and regret. 

“I’m not saying that you have to. You don’t even have to believe that Severus and Karkaroff are sincere in what they are trying to do, however, you are not allowed to ruin their efforts and their lives because you doubt them.” Remus reached out once more to pet Sirius. 

He bit after Remus as a joke, but then surrendered to the pets, leaning at Remus once more. Pets were great. You didn’t have to be a dog to know that pets ruled. “...How come Karkaroff was a Death Eater in the first place? From what I know, there aren’t a lot of Death Eaters in other countries.” 

“Well, I don’t know him personally, but I remember reading in the newspapers, back in the old days,” he chuckled and shook his head over how old the statement made him sound, “that he had citizenship in both the UK and Bulgaria due to parentage. I believe he even went to Hogwarts, and grew up in Britain but moved to Bulgaria after the war. I don’t know if he was bilingual or not as a child, but he has had a lot of time to learn Bulgarian.” 

Sirius had closed his eyes, resting against his friend like a sleepy dog as more pets were graciously administered upon his person. “I...forgot why I asked.” 

Remus rolled his eyes, then smiled at his friend. “Of course you did.” 

The two were silent for a while, Sirius let his eyes remain closed, while Remus glanced at Harry every now and then to make certain that he was alright and hadn’t fallen over, but mostly left him be. 

“I’m worried too. I hope you know that.” Remus suddenly spoke up, causing Sirius to jump slightly. 

The former prisoner of Azkaban sat up, blinking some sleep from his eyes as he focused on his friend. “...Of course you are worried. You’re more easily worried than anyone I know. So be it that I know, like, a total of… five people? If I’m being generous.” 

Remus sighed. “I just don’t believe that suspecting or accusing anyone without any semblance of evidence will make anything better. I’m worried, I want to do something, but all we can do now is support Harry to the best of our abilities. I have been promised that he will be as safe as he can be, and that he will have everyone’s assistance in getting through these trials as smoothly as possible, if he is bound to complete them.” 

“...I guess I do believe in Dumbledore.” Sirius agreed, pushing some hair from his face. He considered, not for the first time, if he should maybe cut all of his hair off, but decided against it, as he always did. “We will attend all the trials then, right? To be here for Harry?” 

“Of course.” Remus gave his back a pat. “Of course. But you truly should stop using ‘Harry’, you know that you haven’t earned it yet.” 

The former prisoner stuck his tongue out towards the real father of their technically shared, but not really, child. “I know, I know. My bad.” Then, Sirius thought of something else. He cocked his head, offering his friend a smug grin which wasn’t reflective of his true nature or actual mood whatsoever. “Will you buy me cotton candy to eat during the Trimagus Tournament trial?” He suggested, the very opposite of innocence. 

Remus smiled back at him. “No. White sugar isn’t good for anyone, least of all dogs.” 

Sirius made another face at him, then jumped off the desk and transformed back into his dog shape, thus signalling that he had nothing more to say. He returned to Harry’s armchair, and curled up next to it. Speaking was exhausting when one wasn’t really used to it. Thus, he shut his eyes, deciding to snooze while he waited for his Godson to wake up. 


	13. Chapter 12 - In which Rita Skeeter oversteps many boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whispers followed him to his seat, but Harry had expected nothing less, so he wasn’t overwhelmingly bothered by it. Instead, he lowered his head and focused on his pumpkin flavored breakfast, while waiting for the mail to arrive for the day. When it did arrive, things quickly became worse for Harry. 
> 
> The first sign that something was wrong came from Hermione, who let out a loud “what in the world?” when she unfolded her copy of The Daily Prophet . Her expression twisted into a combination of anger and disbelief, one which was quickly shared by Draco when he unfolded his copy. 

When Harry woke up from his nap, he woke to meet his dad within Professor Snape’s office, with his Dogfather half-asleep by the foot of the armchair which his dad had transfigured for him. To his surprise, Harry was told that Dobby had visited while he slept to leave some lunch for all the people gathered, and a bowl of meat for what he perceived to be a dog. Remus concluded that Dobby had been very pleasant to speak to, compared to what he had been like before, while Snuffles ate from the bowl of meat. Remus had cooked the meat, breaking his one rule about cooking food with magic so that Sirius would be spared the stomachache from eating raw meat. Sirius Black might be mostly a dog, but he was a person as well, and raw meat was not ideal for a person to consume. 

Professor Snape returned when they were just finishing their food, seemingly having eaten in the Great Hall himself. They didn’t have a lot of time before the Potions Professor had to return to his teaching duties, but in the brief time they had before his lunch break was over, the man took the time to ask Harry how he wanted to handle the upcoming school year, as his unwilling addition to the Trimagus Tournament provided a disturbance to his studies. Professor Snape informed him that he could retake a year, and focus his attention on the tournament and his own mental health in regards to it, or that he could continue on as normal, but with extra attention from the teachers to help him pass this school year. 

While Harry wasn’t too excited to overwork himself in that manner, he was even less excited about the prospect of not being able to stay in the same year and class as his friends. He did know Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, but he didn’t know any Slytherin student who was a year younger than him. Harry loved his friends very much, and the thought of losing them, although they wouldn’t really lose one another, was enough to make him almost cry. There was no doubt in his heart of what he wanted, and none of the adults held any illusions about what Harry’s choice would be. 

Thus, it was decided that Harry would be given the assistance he needed to pass this study year, as it was what he wanted. Professor Snape assured that if it would come to it, he would assign certain assignments and homework and the like during the next summer to assure that Harry would be able to continue on to his fifth year, even if he failed to pass his end of the year exams. 

After the conversation with the Head of his House, the Professor had to leave for work. Remus carefully spoke to his son about the repercussions which might come with such an event like the Trimagus Tournament. He reminded his son about the effect fame had on many people’s lives, and how newspapers and the like might come to hone in on certain things and twist them out of proportions. Harry may be famous, but he hadn't been given the attention of a celebrity until this point in his life. Remus looked very pained as he spoke of these matters, it was clear to the son of the werewolf that it hurt Remus to tell his son to mind his words and actions, as the world might choose to reinterpret them to suit its own agenda. Further, it was evident that Remus lamented not being able to help his son in any way, as him being such a vulnerable minority meant that he couldn’t speak up and help Harry without risking making the whole situation worse. 

Harry listened to his dad, and he believed all that he said, even if it was hard to fully understand and accept it as the reality in which he had to live. Nonetheless, he had seen it happen. He had seen it happen to his beloved dad, and he had seen the after effects of what a single newspaper had done, haunting and hurting the man. 

Remus and Snuffles had to leave by the end of the day, but as they left, they could take solace in the fact that Harry’s friends had come to pick him up and bring him to the Slytherin dormitory. Hermione, Neville and Ron had gotten permission from Professor Snape to visit the dormitory, and together, Draco, Nott, Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson, as well as the three Gryffindor students, had arranged a small party for Harry in an attempt to cheer him up. 

They weren’t trying to celebrate that he had been forcefully chosen as a Trimagus champion, but had arranged something small just to give Harry a reason to not feel dread about, well, everything. With the help of Dobby, they had been able to create a small feast for them all instead of going to dinner. However, they had asked for permission before arranging such a thing, so it was not as if they were going behind anyone’s back to make this little feast happen. 

Harry appreciated the feast a lot, even if he didn’t really have the energy to be, so to speak, partying or anything like that.

Still, it was nice to relax and know that his friends were having fun, and that he wasn’t a burden for not being able to join in with them. Nott and Ron figured out that they could have a soundless dance battle, and spent a lot of time trying to outdance one another, to everyone’s amusement. It was clear that they were putting on a bit of a show to entertain the other people gathered, but nobody minded their antics. 

By the end of the evening, Harry had been asked by Draco if he wanted to join him and Neville in working out so that he would be in better shape for the activities which he would be asked to perform that year. He thankfully accepted, feeling a tad sad that what had earlier been an agreement for him to be able to challenge Ron in Defense Against the Dark Arts had now become something he needed to do for the sake of being even remotely safe in what was to come. 

Ron and Hermione had asked if they could join as well, which made Harry slightly happier, in that Hermione would be as lackluster of an athlete as him, meaning that he wasn’t the one person who was less fast and less strong than everyone else. He and Hermione were joined in being the brainy ones, who could collapse together after the workout. Everyone was aware of this, and he and Hermione even toasted to being the feeble ones. 

The next day, Harry was uncomfortable going to the Great Hall, as he knew what he could expect from the rest of the school. A boy by the age of fourteen should not be used to stares, whispers and displeased rejection from an entire school’s worth of people, or most of them anyway, but Harry Lupin had come to know what such a treatment felt like by the age of twelve. That did not mean that he knew how to handle it, or that it didn’t bother him, but he knew to expect it, and he had mentally prepared himself for whatever might come his way. Or at least so he thought. 

Whispers followed him to his seat, but Harry had expected nothing less, so he wasn’t overwhelmingly bothered by it. Instead, he lowered his head and focused on his pumpkin flavored breakfast, while waiting for the mail to arrive for the day. When it did arrive, things quickly became worse for Harry. 

The first sign that something was wrong came from Hermione, who let out a loud “what in the world?” when she unfolded her copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Her expression twisted into a combination of anger and disbelief, one which was quickly shared by Draco when he unfolded his copy. 

“What is it?” Harry leaned closer to look at Draco’s copy of the newspaper. 

The blonde wizard made an attempt to hide the front page from him, but it was too late, Harry had already seen that which he tried to hide.

On the front page was the picture which everyone had agreed upon should not be used on the front page, featuring Harry in front of all of the other champions. The three champions and Harry smiled up at the reader under a bold headline which read ‘Harry Potter returns - the Trimagus champion to defend Hogwarts Honor!’ The photograph placed Harry in the center of focus, and while the three champions appeared to talk and laugh together behind him, Harry sat solemnly and still in the chair, staring out from the photograph with a guilty look. Harry got the feeling that the photograph was silently apologising to him. 

“L-let me… s-see that…?” Harry mumbled, reaching for the newspaper as if in a trance, as if he was a drowning person, reaching for a perceived rope which might pull him from the waters. 

“It’s all lies!” Hermione enforced, as she slammed her own copy down onto the table as a look of disgust spread over her face. “How can they even print that stuff? It’s like some kind of sensationalism fiction, not journalism!” 

Neville was chewing on his lower lip, seemingly deep in thought but equally uncertain of what he was actually looking at when he eyed the first page photograph. Ron stared at the first page with a look of utter disbelief, as if his mind had simply stopped functioning. Blaise was hidden behind his copy of the newspaper, reading through the articles themselves without saying anything, as he was not as fast of a reader as Hermione. Nott didn’t look like he knew what to do with himself, nor did he know where to look as his eyes kept on jumping between people and objects. 

Draco was still staring at Harry with clear worry on his face, before he reached up to grab Harry’s hand, lowering it for him. “I’m not sure you want to read it, Harry…” He glanced towards Hermione to confirm with her. 

Her face was red with anger, and she seemed unable to sit still in her rage. “It’s lies and slander, you shouldn’t waste your time, Harry. Nobody believes this slander either way!” She huffed, looking towards Blaise, who just lowered his copy of The Daily Prophet. 

“No, this is ridiculous. It’s some kind of three page exposé on Harry, about his life and the like, with two pages about Krum, one half on Delacour, and one half of Diggory. Nobody wants to read this kind of speculation fiction in their newspaper…” He looked disgusted as he placed it down in front of himself. 

Harry’s panic was rising in his chest, and he snatched the newspaper out of Draco’s hands, before he ran from the Great Hall, the stolen newspaper in his hand. It had been a very dramatic action, overly dramatic even, but Harry was getting so very stressed out by his friends keeping something from him that he couldn’t keep the dramatic impulse back. It had probably been dramatic enough that nobody of his friends had known what to do, which was why he got away with it, and managed to run away before one of them could catch up to him. 

Harry ducked into a side passageway and ran upwards in the castle, aimlessly heading for someplace where there wouldn’t be any people at the time, namely the astronomy tower. Well there, he sat down on the stairs and allowed himself to pant for almost a minute, before he opened the newspaper with shaking hands, staring down at the headline once more. Harry could feel that he was already holding back tears as he began reading the front page. 

> ### HARRY POTTER RETURNS
> 
> _\- the Trimagus champion to defend Hogwarts Honour!_
> 
> **The illusive Harry Potter, the slayer of you-know-who, darling of all of Hogwarts, and the pride of the British Mage community makes a dashing return to the public by joining the Trimagus Tournament! Two days ago, Mr. Potter was chosen as the Hogwarts champion, to defend his and Britain's honour in the exciting competition between the UK, Bulgaria, and France.**
> 
> When Mr. Potter’s name was released from the Goblet of Fire, the magical artifact used to select the champions in the Trimagus Tournament, the entire Great Hall of Hogwarts came ablaze with cheers of support and jeers of disagreement. Mr. Harry Potter, age 14, did not appear surprised to have been chosen as the Hogwarts champion, but instead marched across the Hall with his head held high, according to eyewitnesses. He disappeared inside the champions room, leaving behind a myriad of questions to be answered. 
> 
> According to Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch, both representatives of the Ministry of Magic here in Britain, Mr. Potter was not supposed to be in the Trimagus Tournament, but his name appeared in the Goblet of Fire during mysterious circumstances. Due to the rules of the Tournament, Mr. Potter must be allowed to compete, which shocked everyone, except the boy himself, who appeared calm and collected. When The Daily Prophet tried to interview him about his inclusion as the Hogwarts champion, Mr. Potter declined any comments, and left the reporters with a hasty, guilty stride. It stands to reason that Mr. Potter’s plan has worked, and we are all excited to see our national hero defend Britain once more, albeit from a slightly less dangerous threat! Good luck, Harry Potter, Britain cheers for you! 
> 
> To learn more about Mr. Harry Potter and his exciting life, turn to page 5. 

Harry did not have the energy to turn to page five to read about his life, which was likely nothing but a series of lies or confused facts, which had probably been poisoned with lies about his dad and his childhood. He felt horrible, not only had the reporter, Rita Skeeter, judging by the name on the article, twisted his words and intentions to paint a story which was, like Hermione and Blaise had said, fiction, but she had also punished him for not wanting to talk to her, all under the guise of cheering for him. She had also taken the achievements of Cedric Diggory, and made them into nothing but footnotes in Harry Potter’s tale of glory. 

Harry stared down at the photography on the front page once more, then began ripping the newspaper apart as tears began to roll down his cheeks and sobs shaking his body. He ripped more and more of it apart, throwing the pieces all around him as he continued to cry. Finally, when the whole thing was nothing but shredder paper did Harry curl together to cry against his knees, hugging himself tightly while blaming himself for running away from Draco, whose embrace he wanted more than anything right then. His dad’s embrace would have been great too, but at that moment, Harry could only think of what a horrible person he was for stealing and destroying something which wasn’t his in that he had stolen his friend’s newspaper. 

“Oh… oh dear, oh dear…” 

A weak voice came floating towards Harry from somewhere above him. He sniffed, and raised his head, looking upwards towards the path to the platform on top of the tower, as tears continued to stream down his face and snot threatened to escape his nose. 

Further up in the staircase stood a woman. She was dressed in layers of colorful clothing, with pearls and beads decorating her wrists and neck, and with big rings on her thin fingers, inside which galaxies swirled slowly. She was noticeably thin, and wore big, thick framed glasses, and had blonde, curly hair which bobbed up and down when she moved. She looked at Harry, who stared back at her, both of them completely unprepared to meet someone else in that staircase at that time. 

Harry glanced towards the paper carnage, before he sniffed and rubbed some tears away with his hands. They were quickly replaced by other tears. “I-I’m sorry…” he sobbed, “I will clean it away…”

The woman came alive, and began searching through her layered clothing. She found a napkin, which she brought to Harry for him to blow his nose in. She had a rather curious way of moving, as if she really wasn’t sure of what to do with her limbs or her layered clothing. 

“Oh, no, no.” She objected gently while hesitantly taking a place next to Harry on the staircase. She gave him a smile which was surprisingly honest while she played with her beautiful, giant rings. “Emotions are good. You mustn't hold them back, or you will hurt yourself, emotionally, and physically.” 

Harry blew his nose, then curled together again, hiding from her. He heard the woman pick through the scraps of newspaper, she was seemingly very fidgety, which wasn’t a huge comfort for Harry, but at least he wasn’t alone where he sat. 

“I sometimes come up here when nobody is using it to just… scream, and let out some of my emotions. Having an assigned scream place is good for you, lets you release all of the bad energies without doing it in a place where you want to keep the good energies.” The woman continued to speak. 

She reminded Harry a lot of Lovegood. 

“Oh!” she continued again, “I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Professor Trelawney, I teach Divination, I don’t think you’re one of my students?” She questioned, leaning her head to the side with a confused look on her face. 

“I’m not…” Harry sniffed, glancing up at her before hiding again. 

“Oh, then I shall use the power of Divination to reveal your name.” She lifted one of her rings up, then stared deeply into the swirling cosmos of the ring, as she hummed deeply, swaying back and forth. “Is your name…”She hesitated, then her face lit up and she raised her head. “Tom...as. Tomas!” 

Harry stared at her for a few seconds, which was enough for her to conclude that she had gotten the wrong name. The fact that sheh ad picked something so close to Tom was a little unsettling. She closed her eyes and tried again. 

“Perhaps… Nathaniel?” She tried, earning another shake of Harry’s head. “How about… Patrick? No… Henry?” 

“Harry.” Harry corrected her. 

“Harry! Yes, of course, now I hear it correctly.” She nodded quickly, but then, she looked at Harry’s face, and realised that she wasn’t exactly making him feel better. At this realisation, she sighed deeply and rested her head in her hands, staring out into space. “I know, I know, I’m not very good at speaking with the spirits… or communicating with the cosmos. My grandmother had the gift of prophecy, I, however, am not particularly gifted.” She paused, then hurriedly added, “however, I do have a little bit of the gift. Not to mention, I see it as my mission to guide those with the gifts, even if my own are rather… unimpressive.” She twisted her hands in front of her in a rather nervous manner, laughing to herself to hide her discomfort about the subject. 

Harry shrugged. He was feeling horrible, but even then, he didn’t want to make this woman feel bad about herself just so that he would feel better. 

“You see, I have always believed that life is a single, undisturbed line of events, which will happen according to a destined plan. I would believe that all good which came to me was granted to me by the universe, and that everything bad was simply a punishment I was destined to receive. Had you asked me a few years ago, I would have encouraged you to not seek to end your sadness, as it is simply what the universe wants for you.” She continued to ramble, without Harry saying anything to support her. Maybe it was simply a nervous tick of hers. 

“However, I recently had a revelation, and it was granted to me by one of my students, rather than the universe. You see, in the past, I’ve had the habit, or perhaps the misunderstanding, that many omens which I saw had to do with death. Perhaps I simply… felt so insecure in myself that I was… That I tried to hook my students on the most eye catching of omens… namely demise.” She continued to fumble with her rings, looking ever so guilty. “Then, last year, one of my students played a prank on me, and I experienced the fear of that demise myself, the crippling reality of death which I had put onto my students for the sake of proving to them that Divination was worth their time.” Professor Trelawney sighed, then hid in her hands, much like Harry had earlier, likely staining her glasses with the natural oils on her hands. 

“You see, Divination isn’t about avoiding the future, or used to claim that all is decided and settled for. Nothing is settled. If you feel bad, you shouldn’t ignore it. If you feel good, you should be allowed to feel good, and not thank or blame the universe for your emotions. See, rather than sitting here and speaking to me, maybe there is something you can do to feel better?” She seemed to finally have gotten to her point. “You may leave the clean up to me, you just go find the thing to make you happier, won’t you?” She gently patted Harry on the back. 

It would have been easy to feel like she wanted to get rid of him, but Harry understood what it was she was trying to tell him. Namely that it was alright for him to feel bad, but that he should allow himself to search for, or obtain, something to make him happy again, rather than feel like he deserved the pain. He wasn’t entirely sure why she had told him about herself and her student, and it would take him some time to realise that she was actually speaking of Snuffles and Ron scaring her with the Grim in revenge for her terrorising Ron with the omen of death all year. Still, her words helped him find the courage to allow himself to go back to Draco and his other friends, instead of separating himself from the people who could make him feel better. 

Harry got to his feet, then nodded at her. “Is it really alright to leave you with cleaning up…?” He asked in a shy manner, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment over his own actions. 

“You leave it all to me, dear.” She smiled, nodding towards him. “Some simple cleaning is not a problem. Whatever it was you destroyed, it will remain destroyed.” She pulled out her wand, looking ready to get to work. 

Harry nodded once more, completing their back and forth nodding ritual which they had unintetionally come up with during the course of the convesation. “Thank you so much, Professor.” He began hurrying down the stairs. 

It wasn’t too long until he almost collided with Neville, as his friends had spread out to search for him to make certain that he was alright. The tall, handsome teenager looked surprised, then relieved that he had found Harry.

Before he could say anything, Harry had allowed himself to fall into his strong arms, hugging the other around the neck. Neville let out a weak squeak, but allowed himself to be hugged and hugged Harry in return. Harry would have preferred to hug Draco, but he was very thankful for Neville, and his mind was so desperate for comfort that Neville’s body broke down his defenses and caused him to sob against his shoulder once more. 

“That’s alright.” Neville promised Harry as he stroked over his head and back, seemingly not unused to supporting someone who was upset or crying. “You can cry, don’t hold back. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape and, like, all of the teachers seemed rather upset. I’m sure that Dumbledore has already left to do something about this. We met Diggory too, and he says that you shouldn’t worry about the article, and that he isn’t upset. Neither are any of the other champions. Well, they're not upset with you, they're upset with the newspaper. Apparently yours wasn't the only fabricated article.” 

As if Harry needed more of a reason to cry, although this time, his tears were tears of relief. 

Neville wasn’t Draco, but he sure was a good person to cry on. A good friend to cry on. Neville, father of Trevor, had come a long way from the scared boy whom Harry had befriended when they were eleven. Harry, for one, was endlessly thankful for his friend at that moment. 


	14. Chapter 13 - In which Ron Weasley encounters his biggest idol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lupin,” Krum nodded, acknowledging that he had recognised him. “Has something happened?” 

Despite the support which Harry was getting from the tournament administration, the teachers and his friends, many people were still upset with him for a great many reasons, all of which had to do with the Trimagus Tournament. Many claimed that he had cheated his way into the event in various ways, and that he shouldn’t be allowed to stay for a myriad of reasons, while others claimed that Harry was Professor Dumbledore’s pet student and could get away with anything. 

The adults, that was to say, the Headmaster, the teachers and the Ministry, had in various ways and on various occasions tried to refute these claims and tried to get the information right. It didn’t seem to be common knowledge exactly how the Goblet of Fire was constructed, and students at Hogwarts knew even less of how the magical artifact worked. A lot of people seemed to decide on an opinion based on their own assumptions of what had happened, before finding out any of the facts.

In various ways, the adults involved tried to explain that the magical contract wasn’t binding by some sort of established rule or decision, but binding in a will-altering sense. It meant that if the contract was in place, then it would make Harry compete at his utmost no matter if he was prevented from it or not, meaning that he could get seriously endangered if he wasn’t allowed to compete. 

An established contract with the goblet would stop at nothing to have him compete.

The thought alone of not having a say or will in this was terrifying to Harry. Professor Snape had explained how the goblet worked, and the risks involved, in great honesty and detail once the man had been properly informed himself. He didn’t hold back from explaining it to any complaining student or person within reach either. 

However, while Professor Snape had a more honest approach to the whole ordeal, it was clear that the Ministry was trying to hold back, both in their own explanations and attempting to enforce boundaries on Professor Dumbledore. Admitting just how dangerous the contract with the Goblet of Fire could be in the wrong scenario would also show just how far they chose to endanger the champions, and now an unwilling minor. It would not have been a problem if the participants were all willing, since the tournament itself wasn’t meant to be overly dangerous. However, it was becoming a problem when their rules and systems of protection failed, resulting in having to abide the contract lest risk endangering somebody. 

It seemed that following tradition, simply because it had worked most of the time in the past truly had not been a particularly good move, despite the care and new implemented rules. While the Ministry was trying hard to not paint Harry up as the culprit, they were also trying to cover up their own mistakes. Thus, the avoidance of clear answers and details led to students making up their own versions of the events.

There was even an incident with some students making and giving out badges which read things like ‘Potter stinks’ and ‘Diggory - true Hogwarts champion’, and other such inscriptions on them. This had quickly been put to a halt by the teachers, who didn’t allow the bullying to continue. They confiscated all badges they could find and removed fifty points each from any person who wore a badge which aimed to belittle or insult Harry.

Diggory himself took the time to find and apologise to Harry, as he found the badges to be childish and insulting, and didn’t want his support to come at the cost of insulting someone like Harry, who was innocent in all this. Of course, there was nothing Harry should forgive him for, as Diggory hadn’t done anything wrong, but he appreciated the action for what it was. 

From Diggory, he also got to hear in better detail why the other champions were personally upset with _The Daily Prophet._

Krum was the least upset out of them, but dissatisfied with that the newspaper seemed to act like it was alright to get small details and information wrong about him. Small mistakes in regards to his career, origin and personal information had been made without asking or addressing Krum through the interview, which would very directly have clarified what the actual answer would be. The celebrated Quidditch player had felt, at least a bit, as if they didn’t care to check the facts either because he was a celebrity or a foreigner from far away.  
  
Diggory and Delacour were both very dissatisfied with their articles because said articles, in short, didn’t treat them like human beings. 

Delacour’s specifically only went on about their Veela lineage and beauty, completely disregarding their impressive academic and magical achievements, which they had been sure to discuss properly during the interview. It painted a false picture of somebody who had been chosen out of popularity, rather than somebody worthy of competing.  
  
Diggory had been treated very similarly to Delacour, in that all of that which he had achieved was ignored in favor of either focusing on Harry Potter, or talking about Diggory as being popular and attractive, which he himself didn’t even really agree with.

In the end, it wasn’t only Harry who had been mistreated and misrepresented by the newspaper, and it was clearly creating quite a stir among the adults involved in the tournament, but there didn't seem to have been a proper resolution found just yet.

As more time passed, Harry was reminded of something Professor Dumbledore had said last year, in that friends was a great medicine against loneliness, or something along those lines. The son of a werewolf found himself endlessly thankful for his friends in this very stressful and tiring situation which had somehow become present in everything he did. Harry didn’t want to imagine how hopelessly awful he would have felt if he had been alone in all this, without his friend to support and help him, usually by simply being there, by existing. 

Harry was especially thankful towards Draco, who was doing wonders in just being there for him. Part of him felt guilty for being so needy with his friend, but Draco continuously enforced that it was not a problem for him to have Harry cling to him or sleep in his bed, as he was, everything considered, used to it. 

“Truthfully, your current behavior really is no different from how you usually behave around me.” Draco had told Harry when he expressed worry about being so very dependent on the blonde wizard. “The only difference is that you are struggling emotionally for the moment, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t do what you always do.” 

While it was a little embarrassing to be informed that he had always been clingy, Harry found his friend’s words comforting. Whenever he doubted his own right to be comforted, Harry would simply try his best to repeat Draco’s words to himself until he believed them again. For the most part, it worked, and for the times it didn’t, there was always Draco’s arm to grab and hold until he physically knew what his mind refused to believe. 

Of course, his other friends supported him in a number of different ways, with Hermione and Neville focusing on gathering notes in class for Harry to read in his own time since it was sometimes hard for him to focus during the lessons. Ron was trying his best to make jokes together with Nott, both of whom had elected to try and fill Harry’s days with laughter and noise to suppress his melancholia and anxiety. 

Even Blaise would offer some manner of assistance in subtle ways, such as showing Harry selected articles in _The Daily Prophet_ during breakfast, as to try and show Harry that there was still entertainment to find in the newspaper, and that it wasn’t that frightening to interact with, at least that was what Harry would guess the other was doing. 

Draco provided emotional support, academic support, as well as helped Harry with small things, like getting out of bed every morning and reminded him of when to hand in his homework. Small, natural gestures which meant the world to Harry, which more often than not simply had the two of them be around each other.   
  
The circumstances of asking an unwilling minor to participate in something grand and time-consuming which risked ruining the entirety of his school year and regular plans wasn't any kind of ordinary circumstances. It wasn't strange to be that very scared and beaten down by it, as well as by the unwilling fame and lies spread on a much larger scale than previously in Harry's life. Logically, he knew that there was nothing for him to be ashamed of, but it wasn't always easy to remember. 

That day, as most other days, their friend group was sitting by the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. They were up comparatively early for it being a Saturday, and they had lost Nott to the comfort of his bed. 

Draco, Neville and Ron were planning on going for a run together, and Harry and Hermione were finally joining them. The group was trying to eat a light breakfast so as to not go jogging on empty stomachs. Ron was longingly staring at the newly brewed coffee which was tempting him from across the table. He was trying not to drink anything more than a glass of water before working out, as it, in his own words, ‘placed him in need of a leak far quicker than he wanted while trying to go running.’ 

“Is it going to be cold, you think?” Hermione glanced towards the entrance to the Great Hall, trying to see the main doors of the castle from where she was sitting. She had little success. “Maybe I should have brought a thicker pair of gloves?” 

Hermione was dressed in clothes which were somewhat too warm to go running in, but which would allow her some manner of freedom of movement. She had even managed to gather her hair away from her face and secured it a knot which was dangerously close to breaking. 

“You have good gloves, and you have a warm enough hat, you will be fine.” Neville gently smiled at her as he patted the little crochet object which was lying next to her on the table. “Many people forget the hat when they go running, and will come back inside with throbbing ears.” 

“Warmer gloves would make you sweat too much for comfort too quickly.” Ron filled in, as he dried some jam from his face with his thumb and then ate it without a care in the world. “Yours are good.” 

“Okay… yeah, and my shoes are good too?” Hermione fumbled with her gloves as she asked, she was clearly nervous about the whole ordeal of running together, which resulted in her trying to plan out every detail and figure everything out ahead of time. 

“Your shoes are fine. We will be following a track around the Hogwarts premise which has been taken care of to allow safe running, even when it’s cold.” Draco explained as he rested his head in his hand. He had already finished his breakfast and was waiting for the rest to finish as well. 

“Oh, it has been sanded?” 

Hermione’s words caused some confused looks to be exchanged between the gathered teenage boys, who weren’t familiar with the Muggle term. 

“I don’t know.” Draco finally admitted, nodding to himself as he thought about the idea. “I never thought about how they do it, I assumed it was by means of magic, but now that you do mention it, it could be that they use a Muggle created method to make the path safer to run on.” 

“That would be rather cool,” Ron nodded, looking at Neville for approval. “I mean, if they do use Muggle methods. I always thought they melted the snow with fire magic or alike, but maybe it’s more convenient to use something more… Muggledane.” 

Neville and Hermione snorted at his joke while Draco and Harry smiled.

Harry appreciated being allowed to remain in the background while his friends spoke, as he didn’t have the energy to involve himself at the moment. This was still nice, and still pleasant. He felt included, even if he wasn’t expected to perform. 

“The path goes past the lakeside beach for a long stretch,” Draco answered. “It tends to be a little more slippery there, especially in the mornings, so be careful, the two of you.” He looked to Harry and Hermione, both of whom nodded at his words. 

“Got it.” Harry confirmed. 

“I will be careful.” Hermione nodded again, this time at her own words. 

“I will- ow!” Ron began to say something, but before he had the time to finish his sentence, an owl dropped an envelope onto Ron’s head, scaring him to the extent that he hit his elbow against the table. He rubbed said elbow as he looked after the owl, which had a brilliantly reddish coat of feathers, making it easily distinguished from the rest of the crowd of owls. It was by no means an owl any of them recognised, and definitely not the Weasley family owl. They all followed the reddish owl with their eyes as it dropped another envelope onto Ginny’s head, causing her to fumble with, and almost drop, it into a dangerously open teapot which appeared particularly hungry for envelopes. 

“That… envelope is slightly burnt…” Neville recovered first from the confusion, and pointed out that the object was missing an entire corner. 

“...OH!” Ron sat up straighter as he grabbed the envelope, ripping it open to read it. “It’s from Charlie!” He began to read the letter inside, which had also been slightly scorched by what couldn’t be anything but fire. 

“His brother?” Draco asked Hermione and Neville, as he didn’t want to disturb the reading teenager. 

They both nodded in response. 

“What is he saying?” Hermione leaned over the table to be a little closer to Ron, her expression slightly worried. “Is he alright?” 

“Oh, he is fine.” Ron folded the envelope and looked up at his friends with a big grin. “He is visiting Hogwarts today, and asked me to come see him at Hagrid’s hut when I can. I think I’ll just head there right away and catch up with you later, if you don’t mind?” He was already getting to his feet. By the Gryffindor table, Ginny did the same. 

“Of course not.” 

Everyone, including Harry, echoed at once. They then looked at one another, and laughed. Ron snorted as well, before hurrying to meet up with Ginny. Together, the two siblings headed outside the Great Hall.

“Has everyone finished?” Draco looked over his friends, who had all indeed finished their breakfast. “We should set out before it gets too crowded out there.” He then halted himself, before he added. “And I’m eager to get going, do tell me if I’m stressing you all.” 

“It’s fine. I’m ready as well.” Harry assured him as he got to his feet. “Some fresh air will be nice, I think.” 

Draco, Hermione and Neville stood up as well and together they headed towards the entrance of Hogwarts. From there, they would pass over the premise and get to the trail. Before they all could exit through the door, they heard a voice call for Harry.

“Mr Lupin! Oh, Mr Lupin, do you have a moment?” From the other side of the entrance hall came Colin Creevy, jogging towards them. He had left his friend group to come to them, and said group proceeded to enter the Great Hall.

Harry turned towards the smaller boy, after glancing towards his own friends to check that they didn’t mind the interruption. “We were heading outside, I’m sorry to ask but would you please make it short?” 

“Oh, not a problem!” Creevy smiled up at him, as he dug through his bag and produced a clipboard upon which a parchment had been secured. Upon it lay a Muggle pen, which had undoubtedly been used upon the parchment. The clash between mage tools and Muggle tools was somewhat jarring, but also exactly what Harry had expected of Colin Creevy. 

The Gryffindor student proudly showed the clipboard to Harry, letting him read what had been written upon it. Harry leaned in to read, and his heart immediately soared in his chest as he understood what he was looking at. Behind him, his friends leaned in to read what the parchment said. 

## Petition to reinstate Remus Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, 1994 and forward.

Creevy beamed at Harry as he pulled the pen free from the clipboard and presented it to Harry. “Fifty names and counting, Mr Lupin!” He beamed at them. “I’m hoping to catch at least four more before breakfast.” His smile somehow became even bigger as he held the clipboard out for Harry to take, presenting the pen like he was gifting an ancient blade. 

Harry choked back a sob as he accepted the clumsy pen which was in no way as elegant as a quill. He then stopped, thought for a second, then signed a different name from what he had planned, the name of Harry Potter. If they were forcing Harry to not be who he wanted to be, then he would use the name of the teenager who was not him to his advantage. Harry smiled at Creevy, feeling mischievousness thug at his own heart before he winked at the more than capable Gryffindor boy. “Five names.” Harry stated as he handed the pen and board over to Neville, who was standing to his right. 

Creevy blushed, clearly excited by Harry’s words, still beaming as he nodded eagerly. 

Draco chuckled, then reached up to pat Harry on the back, he was beaming with approval. “Excellent.” Draco didn’t need to say anything else, for his thoughts were freely accessed by looking upon his face, proud of Harry’s political move. 

“Do I just… it has ink inside of it?” Neville asked, glancing between Creevy and Hermione. 

“Yes, just write like with a quill.” Hermione instructed him. 

Neville signed the parchment then handed it to Hermione, who signed her name onto it as well. She appeared a little uncertain, as if she was considering writing something more, but didn’t.

“How nostalgic to use one of these.” She spoke loudly, as if she was trying to change topics, as she handed the clipboard and pen to Draco. “You usually don’t see any pens at Hogwarts at all.” 

“I have quite the supply of them.” Creevy puffed his chest out like a proud bird as Harry showed Draco how to use the Muggle object. “My brother has rheumatism, and his wrists and hands are especially weak. He cannot be expected to go back and forth with a quill, and I don’t want him to feel left out just because he was born differently from the norm.” Creevy raised his hands and made air quotes from the ‘born differently’ part and to the end of his sentence, trying to make clear to show that it was something others had forced upon them, rather than a correct definition. 

“That’s...very kind of you.” Hermione looked somewhat surprised to learn this about her fellow Gryffindor student’s brother. 

Creevy shrugged as he accepted the clipboard back from Draco, nodding in thanks to him as he secured the pen to the board. “I don’t know about that, I’m just using a pen I’m used to. It’s not like I’m making some grand statement or changing the world or anything.” 

“I’m not sure I have heard about... that condition before, would you mind explaining it to me?” Draco asked Creevy. Judging by his expression, he felt a little embarrassed to not know what most of the others seemed to know. In return, the younger Gryffindor boy nodded and started talking.

“Rheumatic inflammatory diseases are a collection of almost hundred disorders which are caused by inflammation of the movement organs, or the supportive tissue surrounding those organs, in other words the bones, muscles and tendons.” Creevy rambled, sounding like he had memorised a pamphlet about the condition. Considering what Harry had seen of him and his brother, it seemed to make sense that Creevy would learn to understand the condition very well to help his younger brother explain it, even if he was merely guessing in thinking that. Colin Creevy was a very forward and capable boy, after all. 

“There are also rheumatic diseases that affect the entire body as well as rheumatic diseases that are not caused by inflammation, such as osteoarthritis, which is what my brother has. Osteoarthritis is the most common form of arthritis, it affects millions of people worldwide, according to the doctors. It occurs when the protective cartilage that cushions the ends of one's bones wears down over time.” 

“That sounds very serious, what are the effects of such a condition?” Draco looked somewhat surprised and worried, but not falsely or overly so. There was a politeness about his reaction, but he was nonetheless humbled about the fact that he didn’t know anything about the condition, and wanted to know more. He seemed to decently keep up with the very scientific explanation, as well.

“Mostly pain and stiffness. As I said, he struggles to use a quill because of the constant need to move it back and forth from the ink bottle and to the paper, I mean parchment. He has some trouble with actually wielding the wand as well, but as magic isn’t actually bound to a wand and only a wand, I think he will be fine. Somehow. Somewhat.” A sad expression passed over Creevy’s face as he hugged the clipboard to his chest. He then shook his head before raising it up. “Thank you for your time, I should get back to my friends before they eat all the good cupcakes. Thank you for signing the list, take care!” 

Like he had come, Colin Creevy was soon gone again, whirling away to places known, namely the Great Hall and the Gryffindor table. 

Harry turned back to his friends, giving them all a smile. His chest felt less heavy than it had felt for a month, even more so since he had managed to conquer the beast which was Harry Potter and used the name for a good cause. His friends looked somewhat taken aback, but then Hermione all but sobbed as she moved in to hug him tightly around the neck.

“W-what?” Harry blinked, raising a hand to pat her back, then returned the hug. She sniffed in return. 

“It’s just… you haven’t smiled for a while.” Neville commented, his entire being seeming more at ease as he smiled at Harry. “I mean, you have smiled, but not like this. Not as honestly as this. It’s… It’s nice.”

Hermione pulled back, searching her pockets for a tissue with which to blow her nose. 

“Very nice.” Draco smiled at Harry as well, reaching up to gently pap his cheek. Even in the not-the-most-flattering-of-clothes and with a hat pushed down deep over his pale ears, Draco was so stunningly beautiful when he smiled that Harry felt his own face go from normal to utterly red. 

The son of a werewolf quickly looked to the side, mumbling something about how they were overreacting. Harry didn’t really mean it, as he understood well how good it must feel to see some improvement from the anxious wreck which Harry had been for the past month. Still, he wasn’t sure if he could remain like this, or if the world would bring him to his knees once more. Because of that, he didn’t dare to conclude himself as completely or even partly recovered, but for the moment, Harry felt rather good. It was, indeed, very nice. 

Something which was not nice was the cold, or the jogging. 

At first, Hermione and Harry were doing alright, but they quickly fell behind and struggled overall with the exhaustion from what appeared to Draco and Neville to be a simple track to run. By the time they got to the lakeside, Harry and Hermione exchanged looks and declared that they weren’t fit to continue with their running. Draco and Neville decided that they would continue for another lap, but would come back to check on them soon. After all, they weren’t dying, they were just physically tired. 

Together, Harry and Hermione sank down on a semi-cold rock, leaning against one another as they both tried to breathe. Harry pulled off his hat, and his glasses as they were fogging up from his sweating and panting. Hermione pulled her gloves off but kept the hat on. They sat panting for a while, leaned forward to let the air move more freely through their lungs. 

“Well… that didn’t work out…” Harry mumbled, wiping some cold sweat from his forehead, unknowingly baring his scar to the world. 

“Y-yeah…” Hermione sighed, lightly hitting her chest. “My asthma is coming back to haunt me…” She breathed deeply, her breath didn’t sound entirely right, and slightly raspy. 

“Oh…” Harry struggled to come up with something to say that would sound at least somewhat encouraging. “Is it dangerous?” He did not manage very well. 

“It can be, but I will be fine.” She assured him. 

“Good… Good…” Harry nodded. 

“Hello? Are you two alright?” 

A voice came towards them, as well as the owner of the voice. The voice had a heavy accent, and the clothes gave the person away as a student from Durmstang. However, it was only as he was standing right in front of them that Harry identified him as Victor Krum himself. Krum identified Harry in turn when he had stopped before them, causing Krum some surprise, judging by the fact that his eyebrows twitched. Both of them, as a matter of fact. 

“Lupin,” Krum nodded, acknowledging that he had recognised him. “Has something happened?” 

Harry shook his head. “No, nothing except the two of us aren’t very athletic…” He managed to pant out as Hermione continued to lightly tap her own chest, her face even redder now that someone had come to help them. “Running is rather… demanding…” He laughed, or tried to, as it instead triggered a small coughing attack which shook his body. “T-thank you, though…” He added. 

Krum looked the two of them over, then shrugged and sat down upon another rock which was close by, on Hermione’s side. He nodded towards her in greeting. “I’m Victor Krum from Durmstrang Institute.” 

“H-hermione Granger…” Hermione managed to breathe out her name. She was clearly embarrassed to meet somebody under these circumstances. It wasn’t for the fact that he was Victor Krum, but that he had met her while she was struggling to breathe upon a rock next to a cold lake, as her face remained red from strain and embarrassment. 

“Her...moi...ni?” The Bulgarian Quidditch player tried to pronounce her name but found himself struggling. 

She shook her head. “Her-my-ni.” She was breathing a little easier now, which made it a little less impossible to speak. 

“Her-my-ni. Her-my-ni. Hermione.” Krum repeated a few times before he got it right. 

“That’s it.” Hermione giggled, leaning her head to the side as she smiled at him. 

“I hope you are not upset that I couldn’t pronounce it right away…” Krum hesitated slightly, showing an emotion which Harry hadn’t seen him display before. Something like guilt, or insecurity. 

“It’s fine. I’d rather help you with it then let you mispronounce it.” She assured him. 

Krum nodded at her, then looked the two of them over. “Are you trying to work out for health or fitness?” 

“Health, mostly.” Hermione informed him. “Harry is working out so that he won’t hurt himself during the tournament.” 

“Among other tournament based reasons.” Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the champion title weigh upon him once more. The son of a werewolf tried to not let it crush him. 

“Good, I have some advice for you,” Krum didn’t hesitate to share said advice with them, it was as if it didn’t even occur to him that someone would even want to decline advice from him. “It is important to be careful when working out, because you can badly damage yourself if you do not listen to your body. It goes for all kinds of workouts. Sometimes, your best is twenty push ups. On another day, it could be fifteen or even ten. The important thing is that you listen to your body and know when it is worth pushing yourself and when it is not. It is hard to judge, but you should set a realistic goal which you expand on, not an unrealistic goal which hurts you. Rather than the two of you trying to run if you don’t have the practice of working out regularly, for now, you should walk for thirty minutes every day, but make sure to take breaks if it becomes too much. It should be fine, but if it hurts, make it thirty minutes every second day. Lupin especially shouldn’t damage his muscles by being reckless, as it could cost him in the tournament. After a few weeks, you can start trying to run in shorter intervals and actually experiment with heavier workouts, but you need to get used to to the movement.” 

“That… sounds good… I think we should try that…” Hermione looked towards Harry. 

Harry nodded, smiling at her. “That sounds really nice. To walk with you every day will be fun.” 

Her cheeks turned redder at his comment, and she waved in front of herself, as if she was trying to smack something that wasn’t there. It was a rather funny, cute reaction, which caused Harry to chuckle. 

“Harry! Harry! Oh man, I got to talk to you, glad I found you!”

Ron’s voice approached them out of nowhere, alongside a somewhat red faced and sweaty teenager. Since Harry had put his glasses back on, it was easier to spot his Gryffindor classmate. Ron attempted to slide to a halt in front of Harry and Hermione’s rock, but he didn’t manage and instead slid past them and half crashed into Krum’s arms. 

Krum hadn’t stood up, but he had apparently been ready to catch anything which might fall on him. Ron was captured, and helped to his feet. 

“Galloping gorgons! Thank you, that could have ended badly.” Ron thanked the famous Quidditch player, not even registering who it was who had saved him from crashing into a rock. Instead, Ron turned back to Harry, and hurried towards him. “I gotta talk to you quickly, mind coming with me?” 

“Uh, ah… n-no, course not…” Harry’s voice had pretty much returned by now. Ron appeared more than a little stressed, which was somewhat worrying. Whatever he wanted to say appeared to be of utmost importance. “Do you mind, Hermione?” Harry remembered to ask her before leaving her alone with Krum. 

“Oh, no, I don’t mind! I need to sit a little longer…” She raised her hands and shook her head with a smile on her face. Her breathing was still strained, and she was still sounding rather raspy. 

“We’ll be back soon. Thank you, Mr. Krum.” Harry quickly thanked the other champion before he attempted to leave with Ron. 

When he turned towards his friend, the red haired teenager had realised who he had crashed into, and who it was that sat next to Hermione. Ron’s expression was torn between meeting his hero, and telling Harry whatever it was that he needed to tell him. It surprised Harry greatly when Ron turned towards him instead of Krum, then set off towards the edge of the forest so that they could speak in peace. Apparently, Ron’s desire to speak to Harry was stronger than his desire to speak to Victor Krum. 

They barely made it to the edge of the woods before Ron spun towards Harry, his face red and his eyes fiery. “Wyverns!” He looked as if he had dragon fire breathing behind him, worry and determination clashing into a somewhat twisted expression. “The first trial is wyverns! You are supposed to fight one and get something, like an egg, from them. One wyvern per champion, and then a fourth for you!”

“I… I’m afraid I…” Harry stuttered as he tried to comprehend what the teenager in front of him was saying. Slowly, understanding was coming to him, causing him to blink rapidly. “Wait… you… you say that we, I mean, the champions and me, are supposed to fight wyverns? Like, the tiny dragons…?” 

“Technically, they are draconic creatures, not tiny dragons. Dragons typically have four legs, wyvs only have two and then the wings.” Ron explained, somewhat matter-of-factly. 

Normally, Harry would have appreciated that explanation, but for the moment he was a little too stressed to enjoy the extra information. “I will be fighting a living creature? A… that… is alive? Fight it?”

“Well… you technically just have to get past it, you probably aren’t supposed to hurt or fight it in reality.” The red haired teenager shrugged. “Either way, you know, my brother Charlie?” 

Harry shook his head. 

“I have a brother named Charlie,” Ron explained. “He works with dragons, and draconic creatures in Romania. He came here to Hogwarts just today, as he will be helping with getting the wyverns here to Britain, and all the settling them in and stuff. Me and Ginny went to see him, and he told us all about it. Said not to tell anyone, but I had to tell you or… or…” He stuttered as his face turned redder with every stutter. Finally, he avoided looking at Harry altogether, after his face took the time to become almost irreversible red. “I… I just… had to… tell you, you know? Can’t have some draconic beast take a munch out of you when I can… help, right?” 

“Right…” Harry hoped that he looked and sounded relieved and appreciative rather than terrified. “A wyvern… you said. I mean, I… I’m really thankful but… Ah, no, like this, I will have time to find ways to try and… get past it.” 

As soon as the words had left Harry’s lips, he realised that he was imagining himself alone, fighting the draconic creature. The idea of a lone hero challenging a beast in brutal yet honorable combat to slay said beast was one which had been promoted in so many forms that it was the first image which came to Harry, but he was too realistic to not shudder at the actual reality of what such a fight would be like. It wouldn’t be fun, or thrilling, or glorious or honorable. It would be terrifying, painful, and very likely cause the death of the person who was foolish enough to challenge the beast, dragon, or other creature. Still, even if the lone hero managed to wound the beast they were fighting, what kind of person took pleasure in challenging, wounding and killing an animal which had done nothing wrong but was strong enough to be considered worthy of slaying for glory? 

Then, another realisation came to the son of a werewolf; he wasn’t alone. There was no lone hero role for him to fill, for he had plenty of friends, and many accomplished and capable adults surrounding him, all of whom would want to help him, as well as wanted him to be safe. Thus, he knew what to do, and it certainly wasn’t to close his mouth and allow himself to worry until worry broke him apart, both physically and mentally. 

Ron had been silent for a while, carefully playing and probing the scars on his fingers while waiting for Harry to speak first. He was glancing back and forth, but his gaze continually returned to Harry’s face, searching for some manner of sign. Finally, Ron’s nervousness got to him, and he carefully spoke up; “so… what are you going to do? What should we do?” It wasn’t clear exactly who 'we' was referring to, but Harry assumed it to mean their friends. 

“I was thinking of going to see Professor Snape as soon as possible to ask what I should do.” Harry responded after taking two deep breaths. “I really appreciate your help, and the future offer of more help. Will you allow me to get back to you, and of course everyone else, once I know what Professor Snape says to do?” 

Ron nodded, he appeared slightly relieved that he wasn’t really asked to do anything for the moment. “Are you heading over to Snape’s right away then?”

“Professor.” Harry corrected him, without thinking. 

Ron’s appearance perked up, and a mischievous smile formed on his lips. “You don’t have to call me Professor, Harry.” 

Harry blinked, then snorted, shaking his head. “Good one, you got me. But please call him Professor Snape without dropping his title next time, please?” 

“I will, I will.” Ron promised, raising his hands as he forced a look of innocence upon his face. “I just forgot this time, sorry.” 

“I appreciate it. I was thinking of going to him right away, yes, would you mind telling Hermione and the rest where I went?” 

“No problem,” the red haired teenager gave Harry a thumb’s up. “I’ll make sure we will head to the Great Hall when we are done here so that you can meet us there. Hermione should probably have a cup of tea or something, she looked cold.” 

“Thank you, I’ll see you later.” Harry turned to leave, but the other teenager stopped him before he could make it anywhere. 

“Uhm… just… say….?” Ron stumbled, playing with his scarred fingertips once more.

“Yes?” Harry stopped himself from hurrying off and turned back towards Ron. 

“No, nothing… I was just… I was just wondering if, you know… that was… Victor Krum…? Back there I mean? Talking to Hermione?” The Quidditch fan and aspiring Quidditch player shyly asked about his idol while avoiding looking at Harry. His entire being had become as red as the Gryffindor emblem. The blush was so furiously red that it hid even his freckles. 

“Yes, yes it was.” Harry confirmed. 

“Oh,” squeaked the other, licking his lips while his eyes travelled around so fast and without focus that he looked like he was about to faint. 

“He was giving us some workout directions, I’m sure you could ask for some as well. If you want to, of course.” Harry smiled at his friend. “I really have to go though. I don’t think you need to be scared to meet him. Everything I’ve seen of him, he has been very pleasant, although a bit distant.”

“No, no, yeah, sorry for keeping you!” Ron waved his hands, appearing a little more focused now. “I’ll… Hope I don’t make a fool out of myself, thank you.” 

“You can do it, Ron.” The Slytherin student patted the Gryffindor student on the shoulder before turning from him. This time he successfully managed to leave Ron. 

As Harry left and Ron turned towards the place where Hermione and Krum were, Harry faintly heard the other mumble to himself; “you can do it, Ron.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Charlie's owl**  
>  There are no naturally red owls, but Charlie has magically colored the feathers of his owl. It's harmless and a little bit akin to the concept of pet owners who color the pet's fur, except the fact that it is probably safer and healthier for the animal, as no additives are added to their bodies.


	15. Chapter 14 - In which Charlie Weasley talks about wyverns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This beauty here is the same as the ones in the cage behind us. They are a Scottish breed of wyvern, one that spits acid instead of fire.” 
> 
> “Acid…” Harry repeated, feeling his heart sink in his chest. Somehow, acid didn’t feel any less dangerous than fire. 

“Mr. Lupin, excellent. I was just about to send for you.” 

As Harry knocked on the door to Professor Snape’s office and was let in, he was greeted by the Potions Master’s words and an approving nod. 

“You wanted to see me?” Harry asked, closing the door behind him before coming to stand before the man’s desk. 

“Indeed. I…” The man stopped himself as he looked Harry over, then slowly nodded approvingly once more. “You have already been informed of your task by Mr. Weasley then. That will spare me some introduction.” 

Harry blinked, then smiled a little. Somehow, it had become so natural that Professor Snape could read thoughts, and still, Harry was sometimes surprised by it nonetheless. It was convenient in a way, even if the ability was rather frightening as a concept altogether. Still, Harry wasn’t the only one whose mind had been read by the man, and he wouldn’t be the last. Harry’s relationship to Professor Snape had changed quite a bit the more he had gotten to know the man as more than a distant authority figure and teacher. From what he knew about Professor Snape, he never abused that ability, least of all for the purpose of judging anyone. 

Professor Snape continued to speak about the tournament; “the first task in the is currently being prepared, as you know, but enough of it has been that this is an excellent time for you to be included in what the task is. Professor Zabelle has agreed to take some time out of his schedule to help introduce you to the draconic creatures you will be facing. By facing, I of course do not refer to fighting. The task is indeed to get past them, as Mr. Weasley informed you of.” 

The man appeared rather uncomfortable with his own words, something which Harry would not have recognised when he first met him, not the way he could tell now. Harry was uncomfortable too, he would have hoped that somebody would tell him that they were, in fact, not going to make him have to challenge a living, breathing and dangerous animal.  
  
As much as Harry worried… it really wouldn’t help. He had already cried so much, and he was not about to again. Thus, he tried to focus again.

“I do not think that I remember a Professor Zabelle, sir?” He politely asked the man without directly making his question a question. Ever since Harry had been dealing with people asking uncomfortable questions about werewolves and discrimination against his dad, he had found it easier and safer to be very polite when he felt stressed, as it made him feel ever so slightly in control.

“He is responsible for Care for Magical Creatures while Hagrid is working to achieve a teaching degree.” The Professor reminded him, and he nodded in return.

“So the wyverns really are draconic creatures? Not dragons?” Harry felt it safer to ask than not, even if it meant changing the topic and risking to cause himself worry. It was probably better than letting the fears fester inside his mind further.

The Potions Master scrunched his nose. “Certainly not dragons. Professor Zabelle can tell you more about the creatures. I believe he is taking you to see the creatures for yourself as well, thus, you can also speak to the handlers about them. Charlie Weasley was never too attentive in my classes, but he is most accomplished in his area of work. As you know his brother, it might be easier for you to speak to him than other handlers, should you feel nervous.” 

Harry agreed with him, appreciating that the man had the awareness that it might be hard for him to speak to strangers. “Where can I find Professor Zabelle? I’d like to try and see the draconic creatures while it’s still daytime.” 

“He should be in his office,” Professor Snape began, then continued to give Harry instructions of where said office was located. “If he is confused to have you come to him, do send my regards.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry gave the man a small bow before turning towards the door, attempting to leave. 

“Mr. Lupin.” 

Harry was stopped by the other man’s calm yet nasal voice. He turned around to face him once more, and was met with a calm, ever so slightly pleased, expression. 

“Do remember to write to your father. Some news would do his nerves good, even if they are not necessarily positive.” The Potions Master wasn’t smiling, but it seemed that whatever exchange of reminders which had been started between the two of them didn’t bother the man, in fact it seemed like it did the opposite of bothering him. 

Harry smiled at him. “I will, Professor, thank you for the reminder.” 

Harry had to admit to himself that he had completely forgotten the name of his Care for Magical Creatures teacher from last year. Professor Zabelle was a man who had clearly been struggling with both his English and to speak in the first place, due to a prominent scar upon his neck. Harry recalled that he probably had introduced himself by name sometime in the beginning of the previous school year, but Harry had completely forgotten the name. 

Still, he recalled the teacher as friendly and patient, and upon meeting him outside the classes it seemed that the man was surprisingly chatty, although he was somewhat hard to understand. This Professor Zabelle made up for by speaking a little slower at times, and frequently making certain that he was making himself understood. He clearly let nothing stop him, as his disabilities didn’t seem to hinder him much. He had elected to take Harry out to meet the wyverns a little later in the afternoon when the man had some free time to spare.

“Oh, I have been wanting to see some wyverns for myself for a while now, I met them in my youth, but it has been so long, so very long.” As they approached the Forbidden Forest, Professor Zabelle continued to chatter, happily guiding Harry down the path and towards whatever hidden location they were heading to. It seemed that the man’s English had improved very much over the almost-year he had spent at Hogwarts, even if his accent was still heavy.

“Now, you have to have a very advanced certificate to deal with draconic creatures in general, especially dragons. I never got the certificate for myself, you see, after I watched a careless lass approach some wyverns in that first class and… Oh, no, no, that is far too gruesome to speak of, my lad.” He shook his head and turned towards Harry, smiling. “What did you say your name was again? I’m terribly sorry but after so many years, all of you students blur together. No offense, no offense.” 

Harry noticed that the professor was missing some teeth, but he nonetheless returned the smile. “None taken, Professor. It’s Lupin.” It was wonderfully refreshing to be forgotten, to not have to be Harry Potter, and to simply remind a kind but possibly forgetful man of what his name was. There was no prejudice or objection to the exchange, simply an old man’s memory failing him. 

“Are you taking my class, Mr. Lupin?” 

Professor Zabelle stepped over a fallen branch while Harry circled it. The trees of the Forbidden Forest were surrounding them now, casting not so ominous but rather chilling shadows over their path. Harry remembered when he had been inside the forest back during his first year, and how absolutely terrifying the woods had appeared, and been, back then. Today, as he walked through them with a capable, yet somewhat aged, wizard, in broad daylight, the forest seemed pleasant enough to even be serene. 

“I am not, Professor, but many of my friends are. I was taking it last year, but I learnt that it was not for me.” Harry tried to be polite and not blame the man for not remembering him. 

“Is that so?” Professor Zabelle nodded to himself, keeping his gaze in front of him. “I’m afraid I don’t recall you too clearly, but your name does sound a little familiar. Did you know it almost sounds like lupus, as in canis lupus, the latin name for wolf? Oh my! Did you hear that? We are getting close, how exciting!” After telling Harry about what his name reminded him of, the wizard was quickly distracted.

The man had been interrupted by something which was likely a draconic creature’s growl. Harry truly did not want to approach anything which could make a noise like that. The sound was hard for him to describe, but somehow, that type of roaring and hissing hybrid of a noise sounded exactly like what Harry had imagined a wyvern would make. Nonetheless, the Care for Magical Creatures Professor sped on, forgetting about Harry. Thus, Harry sped on in return, not wanting to be left alone in the Forbidden Forest. 

They entered a clearing inside which had been raised a great cage, taking up most of the space entirely. It was large enough to allow the creatures within it to fly free under certain restrictions, and a barrier’s faint shimmer was easily distinguished between the bars. The barrier was likely there to protect from the wyverns’ fire breaths… if they now breathed fire. Harry realised that he didn’t quite know. He counted three of the creatures in the air, and one which appeared older, who had built itself some manner of nest out of straw and was sleepily dozing in the warm sunlight, seemingly content. Harry hoped that that one was meant for him. It seemed calm. 

Around the cage stood a few people, who had to be the handlers. Among them was one who stood out a lot in that he had fiery red hair, all of which reached down past his shoulders, where it had been captured into a hard braid to make sure it remained out of the way. Harry immediately identified him as Charlie Weasley, despite the distance to him. Next to the larger, clearly adult man, stood another smaller redhead. Upon closing the gap between them, namely by following the excited Professor who wasted no time in approaching the handlers, Harry noticed that the other redhead was none other than Ginny Weasley. 

Professor Zabelle happily called out to the handlers. In his excitement, he ended up speaking French, rather than English. However, his announcement made the handlers, and Ginny, look their way. 

Ginny wasted no time in coming over to him, smiling from ear to ear. Harry noticed that her scar had been completely healed since she was hit by magical fire. While the scar was certainly there, and certainly present, it didn’t mean that it took up all of her face. It covered a bit of her lower left cheek, and reached down upon the beginning of her neck. Harry concluded that it looked rather good on her, like it suited her in a way which made it not only a scar on her face, but a part of that face. Much more noticeable was the fact that she had still kept her hair short, since the summer, and seemed very comfortable in said haircut.

“Harry! Come meet Charlie, he is my second oldest brother.” 

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s arm and stole him away from Professor Zabelle’s side. The man was still excitedly babbling to the handlers in French. Judging by their faces, none of them understood what he was saying and hadn’t had a chance to politely interrupt the man just yet, but nobody seemed to expressly mind the happy man’s gestures and excited speaking. 

“Charlie, this is Harry, Harry Lupin. Son of Professor Lupin, who cut my hair.” To emphasize her words, she shook her head, sending her short, red hair flying around her face. 

“Hi, Harry. I’m Charlie.” The draconic handler extended a strong hard towards Harry for him to shake. 

Up close, Charlie Weasley was quite impressive. All of his red hair had been gathered away from his face, which made it very easy for Harry to tell that he didn’t really resemble Ron at all. One reason for it was likely because part of his face was covered in a red beard, which had been braided with some turquoise beads. His skin was sunburnt, his frame large and strong and his arms muscular. He smelled faintly of sweat, yet there was a warmth about him, the type of happiness which came from a person doing what he truly wanted to do in life. Harry could see that one of Charlie Weasley’s ears had been burnt off, the scar covering a little of his face as well. His left hand, which was not being extended towards Harry, had a wound upon it which appeared to have been caused by some manner of acid or poison. 

“I’m Harry Lupin. If you don’t mind, I’d rather you called me Lupin, as we are strangers.” Harry carefully extended his hand, hoping that he hadn’t offended the man. 

“Not a problem.” Charlie Weasley shook his hand. “Call me Charlie either way. I’m a dragon and draconic creature handler by trade. Pleased to meet you.” He smiled, evidently not bothered by Harry’s polite reprimand. His hand was hard, it felt like touching the hand of a statue, cold, but humanoid, and not entirely unpleasant. It was evident that he was strong, so very strong that Harry didn’t doubt that this was a man who could wrestle a small draconic creature to the ground. 

“Likewise. I’m a student by trade, and highly unwilling Trimagus Tournament inclusion as of currently.” Harry tried to make a joke to make himself feel less depressed about the situation. It helped a little. Charlie seemed amused as well. 

“Show him your tattoos!” Ginny interrupted. “You have to see them, Harry, they are awesome!”

Charlie laughed. “You’re their biggest fan, aren’t you?” He teased his sister, before he pulled his sleeves up and showed them to Harry. 

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother, but didn’t say anything. She simply smiled. 

There were some scars here and there upon Charlie’s arms, likely left by the claws of the beasts he worked with. Further, upon his arms were various tattoos, most featuring dragons and draconic creatures, twisting and curling around each other, with colorful scales and lifelike eyes. The little spaces in between the many tattoos were filled with smaller depictions of nature objects, like plants, mushrooms, and trees. The art pieces as a whole looked somewhat messy but also collected, as if the large variation was something which was meant to be, despite the first impression of a glance. The ink was beautiful, the colors were truly vibrant while the darker parts and the shading appeared as dark as when the ink had first taken residence upon his body. Harry had never thought of tattoos as something more than just something that was upon a person, but as he looked upon Charlie’s tattoos, he felt like he understood for the first time that tattoos truly were art pieces. 

“They are… beautiful…” Harry struggled to find a compliment which was big enough to actually describe the way he felt towards the tattoos. “Are all of these real species of dragons and the like?” He followed his praise up with a question. 

“Yep.” Charlie grinned, then turned his arm over to point at a draconic creature high up on his left arm. “This beauty here is the same as the ones in the cage behind us. They are a Scottish breed of wyvern, one that spits acid instead of fire.” 

“Acid…” Harry repeated, feeling his heart sink in his chest. Somehow, acid didn’t feel any less dangerous than fire. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to worry.” Charlie pulled his sleeves down before turning to point towards the cage. “You see the snoozy one there? He has been in captivity all his life, as he was born with very weak wings. He is so old that he cannot produce any acid any longer. We got him shipped here especially for you.” 

The draconic creature in question was the one which Harry had noticed as the one curled up. The wyvern itself was a rather pale green, but with brown and darker green shades within its scales. Many of the scales lacked shine, and seemed to be aged in that they were less colorful than the younger dragons. It had a rather round head and a somewhat short snout, with a long neck and a long tail which ended in a thin curl. Harry couldn’t see its legs too well, but judging by the other creatures who were flying around in the cage, he assumed the legs to be strong and ending in three toed feet with claws. 

“He looks… nice.” Harry hesitated to say that a wyvern appeared nice, but there was something rather soothing about knowing that the sleepy old wyvern was the one he would face. “Are there only males in this cage?” 

Charlie nodded, smiling at Harry in the type of manner which enthusiastic people reserved for their biggest interests. It was a very endearing expression, which made Harry want to listen to whatever Charlie was about to say next. 

“Yep, yep, female wyverns are larger and more aggressive than the male ones. We frequently observe how the female will lay the eggs and then leave the male to tend to the nest and its eggs. The female hunts food for herself and then brings it back to the male. Should she decide to leave him altogether, which happens rather frequently mind you, it is far more common for another male to move in with the nest-bound male. Male wyvs are generally more family centered ones, while the female ones do as they please.” Charlie finished with a hum, looking towards the sleeping old wyvern. “I tell you, kids, that one has had more husbands than I’ve had kisses from my partners.” 

“Do the males struggle to find food if there is no female there to bring it to them?” Ginny asked. She was looking upwards, studying the flying ones who were exploring the cage by crawling on it with what appeared to be their wing fingers, or hovering around the top of the cage. 

“No, they only really struggle with that when they are bound to a nest. Even then, they will leave and find food for themselves before raising unhatched eggs. Most of these are used to being fed by people, so they aren’t necessarily looking to hunt for the moment.” Charlie continued to speak about his clearly beloved draconic creatures. 

“Why are they used to people? Were they hurt?” Ginny continued to question her brother before Harry had a chance to ask the same question. 

“Yeah, none of these are wyverns coming from the wilds. That would be far too cruel to the animals, to bring them into an environment where they aren’t comfortable, surrounded by people they aren’t even used to seeing…” Charlie shuddered. “No way, these lads are used to people, and comparatively friendly. They aren’t likely to spit acid unless threatened, and I’m going to personally break the champions bones if they physically harm any of them. The real challenge for your champions is to convince them to give up one of their eggs, which, if you ask me, is also stupid. Whoever decided that they wanted wyverns to play-fight against is a moron.” Rage had appeared on Charlie’s face, rather suddenly. His voice became forceful, and his eyes sharp. It was clear that he didn’t support this idea in the least, and that he was worried for the safety of the draconic creatures when they were asked to face a group of teenagers with no experience in handling them. 

“If you don’t like it, why are you here?” Charlie’s sister asked without hesitation but she wasn’t accusing him of anything. There was genuine surprise on Ginny’s face as she studied her brother, blinking at him. “You could have said no.” 

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, I could have, but the problem is that these lads and some of their friends live in a sanctuary which costs money to run. The three ministries of magic of the UK, Bulgaria and France are paying a hefty sum of money to it for borrowing the wyvs. The sanctuary needs that money. Me and my pals are here to make sure that the wyvs don’t get hurt or mistreated on the way or during that so-called fight.” The dragon keeper sighed deeply as he rubbed the back of his head, shaking it. “Really, I just wish you could compete in who can pet a wyv the best, but I guess that doesn’t make for good entertainment in the publics’ eyes.” 

“I wish that was the competition as well…” Harry agreed with a longing voice. In truth, he didn’t feel comfortable approaching anything as terrifying as a wyvern, but if he had to, he would much rather it be because it wanted pets than because it wanted a fight. 

Charlie moved a strong hand to Harry’s shoulder, nodding approvingly at him. Then, he appeared to have remembered something, as his expression turned to slight surprise. “Oh yeah, I was going to teach you how to handle old curly-tail over there.” He let go of Harry. “Our first trick when handling a dragon or draconic creature is always to use a sleeping spell. You have two options, the sleeping charm, or the bewitched sleep charm. They are slightly different in that the former is longer lasting and stronger, while the other one is slightly less potent but easier to learn. For old curly-tail, both would do the trick, but since he is likely to be somewhat more agitated when you meet him next, you might want to practice the sleeping charm before the bewitched sleep charm.”

Harry nodded. He felt a bit like he had been slapped in the face with a book about wyverns, but he tried to follow what Charlie was saying. “So the sleeping charm then?” 

Charlie nodded to confirm that Harry was right. 

“I should practice that, then cast it on the wyvern, grab the egg and then get out of… wherever I will be, very quickly?” Harry concluded. 

“That’s about it.” Charlie confirmed. “I’ll help you practice it for a bit, but after that, you might wanna ask your friends if someone is willing to be your practice dummy.” 

“You will let me cast it on you?” Harry blinked, his surprise written on his face. “But what if I-”

“No, no, not me.” Charlie shook his head. “Ginny said she was happy to be the dummy for the moment, but I can only watch over your practice for a bit before I have to head off.” 

“You still have work to do?” Ginny asked, looking towards the dragons with an understanding look. 

“Nah, one of my colleagues asked me out for a couple of drinks down at the bar in Hogsmeade. It’s been forever since I had something strong and I don’t wanna keep my pal waiting.” Charlie laughed heartily, then turned towards the two students. “Well then, shall we begin?” 

After spending about an hour together with Charlie, practicing the sleeping charm, the man had to break the training session in favor of heading away with one of his fellow dragon keepers, a woman with no hair whose face had been half burned by what Harry assumed to be dragon fire. Charlie offered her his arm and the two were off, chatting happily with one another about who could outdrink who. 

Harry and Ginny returned towards the Hogwarts castle. Ginny was still blinking sleep out of her eyes, stopping every now and then to yawn before continuing again. Harry had gotten the sleeping charm down rather well, he thought, although it was a rather complex charm to cast. He hadn’t managed to put the girl to sleep even half of the attempts, but during the latter half of their practice, he had managed better and better. It didn’t feel impossible to learn the spell well enough to cast it in the given time until the first trial was scheduled, as long as Harry found someone who didn’t mind being his practice victim. 

“I want a nap…” Ginny shook her head to wake herself up as they returned back inside. “I’m heading back to the Gryffindor common room, see you later, Harry.” With those words, she stumbled off. 

Harry waved after her. “Bye, thank you for the help.” 

She didn’t respond verbally, but waved her hand at him as if to say ‘don’t mention it.’ 

Harry turned towards the Great Hall, hoping that his friends were still waiting there like Ron had said they would. He was happy to note that they were all there, sitting by the rather empty Slytherin table. Hermione was reading a book, her hair once more freed from the restriction of her hairband. Neville was reading as well, while taking notes on a parchment next to him. Next to the two of them, Ron and Nott were engaged in a passionate battle of wizard chess, which Draco observed from the sidelines. Lovegood had joined them as well, she appeared to be playing cards against herself, but when Harry approached, he noticed that she was actually doing a Tarot reading. 

As Harry approached his friends, he was quickly halted by the approach of Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson, who appeared to have almost waited for him. The group appeared slightly nervous, but not in any way threatening. 

“Sorry to bother you, Harry, have you got a moment?” Goyle spoke up first, giving Harry a careful smile. His face was slightly sweaty, which made him appear even more nervous. 

“Just want to exchange a word.” Crabbe filled in, or rather ordered Harry, judging by the tone of his voice. He looked down upon his fellow Slytherin student as if Harry was not a threat but someone he didn’t quite trust. 

The look was rather hurtful and unsettling to Harry, but the son of a werewolf tried to tell himself that he could be imagining it. “Sure, here or somewhere else?” 

“Just outside the Great Hall, we don’t mean to keep you.” Parkinson answered next, nodding towards the doors which Harry just stepped in through. 

Harry glanced towards his friends, but then turned towards his fellow Slytherin students. “Of course, but please don’t take too long.” 

Crabbe didn’t wait for him to say anything more, he started walking, expecting the rest of them to follow. Parkinson wasted no time in following her boyfriend, but Goyle fell in step with Harry. The larger boy attempted to give Harry a gentle smile, but once more, it came off as nervous. Harry did his best to smile back. 

Outside the Great Hall, Crabbe led them to the closest corner, where he turned around and rested against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for his girlfriend and friend, and possible lackey, to do the talking. Goyle looked to Crabbe, a confused expression forming on his face. He had clearly expected the other teenage boy to talk to Harry. 

Luckily, Parkinson wasn’t slow on the uptake. Instead, she focused her attention on Harry and began to speak. “The first trial is dragons. Hagrid told us.” 

“He said it was a secret, and that we weren’t allowed to tell anyone.” Goyle spoke next, clearly encouraged by her beginning to speak. “But we think you should know, since… you know…” 

“Since they will be your trouble pretty soon.” Parkinson filled in, very mannerly. 

“Oh…” Harry blinked at the three of them as a smile began to form on his lips. That explained their nervousness, they were only acting so suspicious because they believed themselves to be doing something they shouldn’t do while simultaneously placing Hagrid in a compromised position. “Thank you so much, I have already been told about that. In fact, I’ve been practicing for the past hour together with one of the keepers. Not to mention that Hagrid has been slightly misinformed, they are not dragons, they are wyverns.” He hoped that he wasn’t sounding patronising. 

“Oh… that does sound slightly more reasonable than to have you fight a whole dragon.” Goyle agreed. 

“Lupin.” Crabbe suddenly stepped forward, towering over Harry in a way which made it hard to interpret his actions as anything other than menacing. 

Harry automatically took a step back so as to not feel as cornered. “Yes?” 

“You have to win the Tournament for Slytherin.” Crabbe didn’t ask, he demanded. He didn’t waste any more time to specify why Harry had to win for Slytherin, or why it was important, he just demanded it without a single care about what Harry wanted. 

Harry felt his heart sink in his chest as he heard those words. Crabbe didn’t remain to wait for him to respond, instead, he pushed past Harry and walked off towards the Slytherin common room without looking back. Clearly, he expected the rest of his group to follow him, which they did. 

“Good luck,” Parkinson said. As she walked off, she flicked her head so that her ponytail whipped the air. The movement made her appear rather powerful, much like Harry imagined a female wyvern to appear, as she sauntered off with purpose and confidence. Harry believed that she meant those words, as she had no reason to mock him or want him to be hurt or lose.   
  
As she left, he was suddenly reminded of having wanted to help her, or talk a few things out with her. Somehow, all of that had simply vanished under the heavy load of which was asked of Harry over this year. In the end, she as well as Crabbe and Goyle had gone out of their way to do something for him instead, and she seemed somewhat different from just a few months back. Things were clearly changing around him, but Harry wasn't in a state to keep up with all of it.

Goyle took the time to gently squeeze Harry’s hand. “Be careful though.” He had to jog slightly to catch up with the other two.

Harry was left feeling pressured by their encouragement and demands. He found himself feeling small and tired, rather than feeling eased as he had before he had spoken to them. Everyone around him understood that Harry was just a child, and that he shouldn’t be and couldn’t be demanded to perform for victory in the Trimagus Tournament. It was a shock to the little more than boy to learn that there were people around him who expected that he would try to win the whole thing. It felt so utterly out of the bounds of rationality that Harry hadn’t even imagined it. Yet there were three of his classmates who appeared to consider it Harry’s duty as a Slytherin to risk himself for fame and recognition. As if ambition was worth Harry’s safety, as long as it reflected good on the Slytherin House. 

It was with a heavier heart that Harry returned to his friends and sank down next to Draco. His arrival prompted many questions, but they were soon halted when his friends learned what Crabbe had said. They were all rather upset about it, with Ron and Nott objecting so loudly to the idea that Harry should risk getting hurt for fame that they ended up talking over one another. 

“There is no way that that-”

“How could they even demand such a thing?”

“...As if that would really be worth anything when…”

“Crabbe has been acting weird for a while, I tell you, don’t listen…”

“And to bring Harry into it? So messed up, do it yourself, prick!”

“He’s become such a bully, I swear he was way nicer before he…” 

Hermione objected as well, but in a slightly more comprehensive manner, which made it possible to hear everything she was saying “Some people will always demand unreasonable things from you, Harry. It can sometimes be hard to know when they are actually making demands and when they are trying to help. In this case, they are being unreasonable.” 

Neville shook his head disapprovingly, his expression turning sour as he muttered about how 'fame couldn’t possibly be worth that much.' 

Draco pulled a hand though Harry’s hair before pulling his head down on his shoulder, offering him a much desired closeness and warmth which eased his heart as if by magic. “If Crabbe continues to speak with you in that manner, do inform me and I will attempt to talk to him. The last thing you need is more outside pressure. I thought Crabbe knew better than this…” As he spoke the last sentence, his expression turned bothered. If Draco hadn’t been holding Harry, the blonde wizard would likely have nervously fidgeted with his cufflinks.

Harry responded by gently shaking his head. “I appreciate it, but if Crabbe becomes a problem, I will speak to Professor Snape about it. It’s not your responsibility to handle him, especially since you aren’t that close friends anymore.” 

Draco nodded from side to side, then ruffled Harry’s hair again, causing Harry to object without any real displeasure. “You are correct,” Draco sighed. 

“Lupin, would you like me to tell your future using the cards?” Lovegood’s distant voice slid into their conversation. The girl held up her deck in front of her, showing it to Harry. “It’s fun, and you always learn something new.” 

Harry glanced at the beautiful cards which she presented to him, allowing his eyes to glance over the names of said cards as well. One was labelled the Star, its art showed a starry night sky with a big, brilliant star in the center. Another read the Moon, it looked similar to the Star, but with a moon in the center of the sky. A third had the Empress written underneath a detailed art peace of a beautiful yet sorrowful woman. 

Lovegood smiled absentmindedly. “I took out all the bad cards like Death and the Hanged Man, those aren’t very nice. Thus, my deck is a little smaller, and nicer.” 

“Fortune telling is bogus in the first place, she might as well do what she wants.” Ron muttered somewhere behind Harry. 

“...Sure.” Harry gave her a hesitant smile before he straightened up, allowing the girl to have his full attention.

Lovegood began to place the cards on the table before Harry, then slowly began to read his fortune. It was a clumsy reading, and clearly not very reliable, but when she was done, she had confirmed that Harry would be safe, happy, and that he would have academic successes to look forward to. Plus, he would probably win a lot of money very soon. It was rather evident to Harry that this was Lovegood’s way of cheering him up. He appreciated the gesture for what it was, and even made a little bit of a show in considering what he would buy with that money which he in no way was about to win. 

At the end of the day, after Harry had spoken with his friends about all that he had learned, and secured both Nott and Ron as his willing sleep subjects, Harry fell asleep rather quickly next to Draco. It had been a long day. Harry was eager to escape from everything for a few hours and just rest. Luckily, he was allowed a dreamless sleep, which was just what he needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Wyverns**  
>  Wyverns are generally part of history and various folklore, and thus have various interpretations differing from media to media, even if it's a re-occuring pattern that they are bipedal and do not breathe fire. The wyverns in this story are thus created for it specifically, and may not reflect on other wyverns from other media. 
> 
> A potentially interesting note regarded in these wyverns studied behaviours is that the generally binary idea of animals with aggressive stronger males and weaker females, and heteronormative relationships between them, does not usually apply within all of nature. 
> 
> Using gender norms to define nature and behaviours in creatures and people is a relatively recent concept, just a few centuries old, which has created a rather false understanding for the variety of gender, expression, behaviour and relationships found in nature. In reality, it varies a great deal more. 
> 
> **The Forbidden Forest**  
>  In this lore, the Forbidden Forest got its name through nicknaming becoming official with time, and the name is just about 200 years old. It stems primarily from the fact that a centaur tribe has resided within it for generations, and that people aren't supposed to enter their territory, and are supposed to leave them be.


	16. Chapter 15 - In which Snuffles barks at a bigot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last week before the first trial, Harry felt like he had an endless amount of things which he needed to do, but that endless list also helped keep his mind off the fear of facing a wyvern. At least a little. 

The last week before the first trial, Harry felt like he had an endless amount of things which he needed to do, but that endless list also helped keep his mind off the fear of facing a wyvern. At least a little. 

His friends helped him practice the sleeping charm, with Hermione acting as their supervisor. However, she was not always available, which meant that practice couldn’t continue forever, but that was just as well, or Harry would probably have ended up overworking all of them out of his own fears. 

Harry and Hermione tried to stick to Krum’s workout advice, which meant that they aimed to walk for thirty minutes every day. Harry felt like it was helping him, not to mention that it really was nice to speak to Hermione alone. Harry found that he was interested in learning more about what life was like living in a Muggle society, but he tried to not only ask her about things like that in case it would make her self-conscious. Thus, they talked about this and that, sometimes school work, or an interesting book which Hermione was reading. Now and then they talked about the everyday life of Muggles, which made Harry feel rather certain that he would no doubt exceed expectations during the next Muggle Studies class. 

Krum would come join Harry and Hermione every now and then, usually covered in sweat after having worked out on his own. He appeared to enjoy listening to Hermione speak in general, and didn't usually make any comments or speak up. 

Three days before the first trial Krum joined the two of them, as usual. They had both gotten used to him quietly walking next to them, which made for a rather curious change when he suddenly spoke up. Hermione had been telling Harry about democracy and how it had been formed around 2500 years ago in a city by the name of Athen, and had then been rediscovered and changed to become a core of western societal and political beliefs, when Krum raised his voice. 

“How come you know so much about the non-muggle users?” Krum struggled a little with remembering the English shortening for non-mages and mashed them all together into something completely opposite to what he was trying to say. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks before Hermione answered, her voice slightly hesitant and her gaze avoiding the foreign student. “I’m… Neither of my parents were mages. In fact, there have been no mages in my family until me.” 

Krum blinked at her. “You are… Not mage born?” There was a small hint of surprise in his voice as he studied her. “But you are so… accomplished in magic, and you know so much, how could you not be mage born?” 

Hermione closed her eyes, then took a deep breath through her nose. When she opened her eyes once more, her face settled on determination. “I am, because I study. Knowledge isn’t something you are gifted with by manner of birth or blood, it is something you gain through work. Magic talent based on blood lineage, or whatever you wish to call it, is a myth.” 

Krum blinked once again, then slowly nodded. “I did not mean to make it seem as if you are not good at what you do based on your own work, I was just surprised. Durmstrang does not accept students if they don’t have at least one mage parent, someone like you just… would not be allowed.” He was frowning at this point, turning to look forward as he walked.

“...Are you saying that you have some manner of problem with me being here?” Hermione’s voice sounded sharper than Harry had heard it before, as she more or less angrily challenged Krum to answer her. However, Harry knew her well enough to know that her anger was just to mask her hurt. 

“No, no.” Krum shook his head, turning to fully face her. His expression was subtle, but he was nonetheless looking at Hermione with some manner of awe. “It must… You are really good at magic performance, and you know so much about… so many things. I never thought about how many people like you were not allowed from Durmstrang just because their blood was not enough. It’s… shocking to think of.” He gave her a small smile. “You are amazing, Hermione. Just being around you is teaching me much.” 

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Krum had forgotten that he was there as well. 

Hermione blinked at the world renowned Quidditch player, trying to wrap her head around his praise. In the end, she ended up stuttering something out before turning away from Krum. Harry noted to his own small amusement that although he had previously thought Ron to be the personification of embarrassment, Hermione’s current expression more than rivalled him. It only pleased Harry because Hermione wasn’t embarrassed because she was hurt, but because the praise had made her both happy and embarrassed. 

“I hope I am not being… Too forward, if you do not like my company you can always ask me to leave.” Krum appeared to be slightly worried that he had said something wrong. 

“No, no, it’s… It’s fun to spend time with you too!” Hermione hurriedly blurted out. “I just… I was, wondering… if we could maybe make it an exchange as well?” 

“Yes?” Krum leaned his head ever so slightly to the side, waiting for her to continue. 

“You say that I’m teaching you so much, and I’m really happy that I am, but I was wondering if you might be able to teach me some things in return? There are certain things that Durmstrang Institute teaches its students that I am curious to learn more about.” Hermione hurriedly blabbered. She was evidently nervous to ask, thus having reverted to that hurried way of speaking which she had used in classrooms when she believed that nobody wanted to listen to her. 

Harry felt like he should say something as to not become a passive extra in his friend and acquaintance conversation. “I would also like to know some more things about the curriculum at Durmstrang. I’m rather busy for the moment, but I’d like to learn more when I’m not.” 

Krum looked between them. “So you would both want me to teach you things in return?” 

Harry and Hermione nodded as one, as if they had practiced for this exact situation. They hadn’t, but they were so synchronised that it appeared as if they had. 

“I do not mind. I’m not a very good teacher though, but I will do what I can to be understood.” Krum stumbled slightly with his English at the end. It was hard to tell with Krum but it was possible that nervousness had caused him to stumble at the words. 

“That sounds great!” Hermione cheered. Relief was written all over her face. “I have so many questions, first of all-” 

“If you speak that fast, I will not understand you.” Krum carefully interrupted her. “Would you speak a little slower and louder.” He lifted a hand and pointed to his right ear. “My hearing is damaged on this ear, I can not hear very well.” 

With that information, things fell into place for Harry. That explained why Krum was very often asking people what other people had said, he was struggling to hear them in the first place, as well as why the Durmstrang Headmaster elected to speak so close to Krum’s ear. 

“Would it be rude of me to ask if it’s something you were born with or something that came later?” Hermione carefully asked, twisting some hair between her fingers while staring down upon the ground. 

“I personally do not mind, but I like it if you did not spread it. The first time I played Quidditch on a large arena, I was careless with the equipment. Or rather, I thought that it was unnecessary to protect my hearing, after that game, I could not hear properly. When I checked it later, they told me that I had damaged it beyond repair.” He absently rubbed his earlobe as he spoke, staring off into distant memories. “Be careful with your hearing, you only get one.” He summarised at the end. 

“We will keep that in mind.” Harry told the other teenager, his expression serious. 

“We sure will.” Hermione agreed. 

The day before the first trial, Harry was struggling with absolutely everything. He felt like his brain was a jumble of things which couldn’t focus on anything, least of all classes. He wasn’t the only one struggling to focus, as the excitement and expectations of the following day was too present in the school. 

Outside on the Hogwarts school grounds, a gigantic arena had been built out of the Quidditch stadium. It was fashioned like a sort of cage, with the cage in the center of circular benches, which were all safely outside of the cage The students had been told not to approach it as it was still being constructed but would be finished by the time of the trial tomorrow. Some stalls and tents were already being put up a short distance from the arena, which were probably going to be selling food and snacks for the Trimagus Tournament. Someone said that Hogsmeade was already being filled up with some people who had decided that it was immensely important for them to attend the competition. A ticket booth had been set up by the gates to Hogwarts, so at least the Ministry of Magic was taking measures to not allow too many people onto the school grounds without permission. After the Sirius Black incidents last year, and the riot at the Quidditch World Cup, Aurors were going to be present throughout the event. Harry was personally glad about that arrangement, but he would have been far, far happier if he had just been another member of the audience. 

The night before the first trial, Harry was struggling to sleep, but nobody had expected anything else. Nott had decided that since Harry wasn’t using his bed for the moment, it was simply fair game for Nott to conquer the bed as his. At least for the moment. Harry didn’t mind, and so, their room had gotten one more inhabitant. 

As had become usual, Nott arrived at their shared living space, holding something behind his back. He didn’t hesitate but walked straight over to Harry, who was hugging his pillow and staring out at nothing. 

“So I’ve been thinking about how to tackle the wyveration. The wyv-situation, if you didn’t get it.” Nott cheerfully addressed Harry. 

Harry, in turn, tried to smile at him but it came off as a stiff grimace. 

“Either way!” Nott hurriedly continued, “I made something for you to use as a last resort.” He produced his hands from behind his back, then opened the left one up to show Harry a round, metallic object with a red button-looking contraption on the top. “It’s a noisemaker, I’ve perfected it now, it won’t just go off with a slight nudge any more.” 

“Uhm… I…” Harry held out his hand for the object, unsure of what else to do. 

Nott wasted no time in giving him the noisemaker. “So here is what you do, you-”

“That’s quite the crowd around my bed.” Draco approached his bed. His hair was slightly wet since he had just showered, and he had a towel wrapped around his shoulders to avoid his wet hair from dripping onto his pajamas. 

Harry wasn’t envious of his straight hair, but he was slightly jealous of the fact that Draco didn’t have to wrestle with a comb for thirty minutes to look presentable. 

“I’m telling the Lupling about my noisemaker. I promise I’m not trying to join your bed club.” Nott grinned at Draco. “As I was saying,” he turned back to Harry, “you press that red button, and then you hurl it away from you. The wyvern should be finding that noise to be the bigger threat compared to you and go after it, allowing you to snatch the egg away while it is busy.” He summarised, then winked at Harry. “I know you have your own plans, but I’ve been wanting to help you make a plan B so to speak. If your sleeping charm would fail for some reason, you have that.” 

Harry let his fist close around the noisemaker, this time, it was far easier to smile at Nott, because he felt extreme relief and gratitude. “Thank you… I don’t know what to say, I… Thank you so much.” 

“Excellent forward thinking, Nott.” Draco smiled at the tinkerer as well, before he reached up to pet him on the back. 

Nott grinned at them. “No problem! Is there anyone in the shower or can I head in there?” 

“It’s free, the lock on the door has been a little strange lately, so you might want to bring your wand in case you can’t lock it or get locked in.” Draco dried his hair off some more before hanging the towel up to dry on his empty clothing rack. After that, he sat down next to Harry on the bed, giving him a soft smile. “Say, if you can’t sleep, I want you to wake me up.” 

“I don’t know if-” Harry automatically began objecting. 

“I want you to wake me up.” Draco reinforced, his tone of voice having turned stricter. “I don’t want you to suffer alone throughout the night when I can at least be there for you.” 

As Draco’s stern but kind gaze found Harry’s, he felt his heart flutter in his chest to such a degree that it felt impossible to not look away from Draco’s face. Still, Harry couldn’t look away. It felt like if he looked away now, he would regret it for the rest of his life, which was frankly ridiculous since it probably wouldn't lead to anything. There was some manner of tension between them, a tension which only seemed to be growing with every beat of Harry’s heart. In summary, it meant that the tension was growing with alarming speed. Harry stared at the other’s face as if in a daze, he felt as if his glasses had fogged up, as if he couldn’t quite see. He opened his lips to say something, but he didn’t know what to say, neither did he feel like he had any right to say anything. His heart continued to beat rapidly within his chest, threatening to kill him softly. 

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Draco leaned in a little closer. Meaning that his lips came closer. His face was slightly red after the shower, and he smelled faintly of expensive body wash products. Harry really liked that scent. 

Harry had never thought of his name as beautiful, but when it was spoken by Draco just now, it sent goosebumps over his arms. 

“No, n-nothing. Sorry.” Harry quickly stuttered out. Then, gathering all his courage, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Draco, replacing his earlier pillow with his best friend instead. Harry’s face burnt almost painfully as he hid it against Draco’s shoulder. Of course, he took care not to crush his glasses in the process. “I’m just… I mean… Thank you for always… Thinking of me. You’re a great friend.” 

Draco’s arms wrapped around Harry in return, pulling him closer into a warm, comforting embrace. “You’re a great friend too. You will be alright tomorrow. I won’t tell you not to worry, but you will be alright.” 

Harry had no idea how much he had needed to hear those words. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. There was no stopping them after that. When Harry had finally emptied his storage of tears, his head felt light. After that, falling asleep was surprisingly easy. Perhaps, at least for tonight, crying had been just what he needed. 

The day of the first trial arrived, no matter if Harry wanted it to or not. After he woke up and washed his face, he was pretty quickly called away from his friends to have breakfast with the three actual champions. When Mr. Crouch came to collect Harry, he wasn’t exactly completely comfortable with leaving with the stern man to eat with people he didn’t really know, but when he arrived at the specially prepared room dedicated to the champions, he found that his dad and Snuffles were there as well. Harry knew that his dad was coming, but he hadn’t expected Remus to already be there. 

“Dad.” Harry let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t known that he had been holding. He was completely blind to his surroundings in favor of looking at his dad, who, despite Remus’ own perceived helplessness, still offered Harry immense relief by virtue of being there. This blindness almost caused Harry to trip over Snuffles, who had approached Harry without hesitation and with great happiness. 

“Hello, Harry.” Remus approached Harry in turn, meeting him halfway. “Severus said that he had other duties to attend to for the moment, but all the parents were invited to have breakfast with their children before the trials.” 

Remus held out his arms, which Harry took as the open invitation it was, and hugged his dad. “I’m so glad to see you, I thought you would come later.” 

“For whatever it’s worth, I’m very glad I can have breakfast with you.” Remus patted Harry’s shoulders, then sighed deeply. He immediately seemed self-conscious after the sigh. “I don’t mean to be melodramatic, I’m just a little worried.” 

“It’s alright, dad, I’m worried too.” Harry confessed as Snuffles pushed his face against Harry’s hand, begging for some manner of recognition. 

Harry petted Snuffles’ head as he looked around in the room. They were on the top floor, not counting the attic. The room wasn’t too big, but more than spacious enough to fit a larger than average table, which had been filled with a varied breakfast buffet on par with the one in the Great Hall. There were a collection of people there, but not as many as Harry had expected. All the champions were present, but not so many parents. Krum had Headmaster Karkaroff accompanying him, while Delacour was spending time next to a small girl in a wheelchair who couldn’t be anyone else but their sister, judging by the resemblance between the two. The two groups sat on opposite sides of the table. 

By Diggory’s side stood a man who had the same nose as the champion, and the same hair color, although it was slightly greying from age. He was eagerly speaking with his Professor Karkaroff for the moment. The Headmaster seemed passively annoyed that he wasn’t allowed to drink his coffee in peace, and he had made no effort to get up from his chair. Equally, the other man had made no effort to sit down by the table.

The way the unfamiliar man was speaking revealed him to be Diggory's father. It was evident in that he couldn’t stop talking about and praising his son, saying things about how Ced would definitely become famous if he was able to defeat Victor Krum in a battle of wits and magic. Krum’s brow twitched slightly before he excused himself from the table. He went into a corner of the room where he began stretching, clearly having finished eating, if he had eaten at all. 

Mr. Diggory had been busy with Professor Karkaroff, but when Harry looked at him, the man suddenly became aware of his presence. He excused himself from the other man, who shrugged and returned to his coffee, not without slight relief in his eyes. Diggory glanced at Krum, who had his back to him, before he followed his father, possibly deeming it more important to keep an eye on his boasting parent that he did apologising to the other champion right away. 

“Harry Potter! Himself, in the flesh.” Mr. Diggory happily extended a hand towards Harry. “Amos Diggory, an honor, my boy, such an honor.”

There was no ill will or harm in his happy, honest smile, but that did not stop Harry from immediately getting a bad impression of him. Most of it had to do with getting ‘Potter’ pushed upon him so early in the morning, before he even had the chance to eat something. Harry never wanted to deal with Harry Potter, but he wanted it even less on a hungry stomach on a very, very stressful day. 

“Dad.” Diggory spoke up from behind the man. His handsome features were twisted into a displeased frown. “I’ve told you over and over that this is Harry Lupin. Not Harry Potter.” 

“Oh son, I couldn’t call him that, that name is-” 

Whatever it was that Mr. Diggory was planning on saying, was abruptly drowned by a very displeased Snuffles, who began to loudly bark at him. The noise was so loud that everyone in the room turned towards them. Delacour’s sister appeared slightly frightened. She reached out to grab her sibling’s sleeve, holding on to them for support. Delacour patted her back and said something in French, which seemed to effectively calm the girl at least somewhat. 

“Snuffles!” Harry and Remus said as one as the barking dog caused Mr. Diggory to retreat a step, sweat forming on the man’s brow. Snuffles looked up at both Lupins, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he wagged his tail innocently. Both father and son were secretly greatly appreciative of his actions, something that Snuffles was very well aware of. 

“N-nice doggy…” Mr. Diggory tried, his voice shaking slightly. 

“He barks at bigots, dad.” Diggory calmly addressed his father, before sending an apologetic glance towards Remus, his former Professor. Diggory looked pained about the whole ordeal, and fairly embarrassed, but also a little relieved that the dog had interrupted.

Judging by Diggory’s look and comment, Harry concluded that Mr. Diggory had been about to say something disrespectful about Remus’ condition. Harry made a show out of patting Snuffles on the head, hoping that it would send a message to the bigoted man. “Good dog. I’m Harry Lupin, if you excuse me, Mr. Diggory, I’d like to have breakfast with my dad now.” Harry walked past the man, heading towards the breakfast table to eat. Both Remus and Snuffles followed him, leaving Mr. Diggory alone to be quietly lectured by his son. 

Harry and Remus ate breakfast together, that is to say, Harry tried to eat while his dad did his best to do the same. They talked a little back and forth, but in hindsight, Harry couldn’t remember what they had talked about. 

Sometime during the breakfast, Delacour and their sister came over to ask if the sister might be allowed to pet Snuffles. Of course, she was allowed to. Whatever fear she had displayed earlier in regards to the big dog was quickly forgotten as she scratched him on the head and began asking him to do tricks for her. Snuffles, who might have felt a little bad for scaring her earlier, did his utmost to perform to her liking. Soon enough, the room was filled with her laughter, which seemed to make Delacour relax quite a bit. In fact, the way their sister got along with the dog, and with the knowledge that Remus was a professor, made Delacour ask the man if he could make sure that their sister found her way to Headmistress Maxime to observe the trials. Remus accepted, of course, much to the girl’s joy, since that meant that she could play some more with the big but friendly dog. 


	17. Chapter 16 - In which the first trial takes place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Crouch turned towards Harry, his expression was empty as he gestured towards the tunnel. “Everything has been arranged for you.” He stated in so simple a manner that it surprised Harry. Mr. Crouch words sounded so rehearsed that they became oddly insincere. 

Harry, Diggory, Krum and Delacour were collected by Mr. Crouch about one hour before the trial was set to begin. Harry petted Snuffles and hugged his dad tightly before hesitantly trailing after the rest of the champions. Remus smiled and waved, putting on a brave facade as his son left, but Harry could see the worry in his eyes. Still, Remus had another person to look after for the moment, which probably helped him in that he couldn’t allow worry to overtake him. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Delacour had noticed the Professor’s need for distraction, and if that had been part of the reason as to why they had asked for his assistance in helping their sister. If that was so, then Harry was thankful. Besides, Harry needed to put his energy into what was about to come, and not allow himself to worry about others right now. 

The champions were led to a comparatively large tent on the outside of the arena. On the way there, they had seen part of the almost festival-like set up which surrounded the arena, with various scents crowding for dominance amongst the people. Still, Harry recalled it all as a blur or scents, noises, people and distractions. It might have been something fun and exciting had he not been an unwilling contestant, but as it was now, the surroundings blurred together into a mass of uncomfortable impressions. 

It was a relief to Harry to find himself in the champion’s tent, where he at the very least didn’t have to see everything happening outside. The tent itself had a few chairs and tables in it, allowing for a comfortable resting space. There was also enough space in said tent to practice some spells, should anyone wish to. Added to that were some jugs of water placed upon the tables alongside cups, in case the champions got thirsty inside their tent. 

Mr. Crouch was joined by Mr. Bagman. The former looked rather tired and a little distant, while the latter was his absolute opposite. Mr. Bagman appeared like an excited child, who could barely remain still. His face was flushed and his eyes alive with happiness. The Quidditch World Cup commentator appeared much within his element of choice. 

“Are you ready to have the first task revealed to you, my champions?” Mr. Bagman cheered, rubbing his hands together in front of himself as he spoke. The gesture was clearly meant to be comedical, as people generally didn’t do things like that unless for theatrical effect. Nonetheless, it only served to make him appear childish. 

“Yes.” Delacour spoke up first, their hands placed upon their hips. They were not very impressed with the way Mr. Bagman was acting. For the coming trial, they had put their hair up in a tight bun, which served to accentuate the unimpressed look on their face. 

“Well, yeah! Of course,” Mr. Bagman stuttered a little as he continued. “The four of you will each be facing a wyvern each, and your goal is to get past it to obtain a golden egg which it is guarding. There are more than just one egg in their nests, but you are only supposed to get to the golden one. You are not in any way supposed to harm the wyvern or the eggs, if you do, you will have to answer to some very angry dragon keepers!” He finished his speech with a little laugh, which nobody shared. 

“Mr. Lupin will go last, as he isn’t actually part of the competition. Mx. Delacour will be first, followed by Mr. Diggory and finally Mr. Krum,” Mr. Crouch began to speak, his voice was more hoarse than Harry remembered it, but his words were clearly pronounced, making it easy to follow what he was saying. 

Harry absently noticed that Krum wasn’t frowning quite as hard when Mr. Crouch spoke as he did when Mr. Bagman spoke. Mr. Bagman might be articulate, but he spoke rather fast, while Mr. Crouch spoke both slower and clearer altogether. It was probably easier for the two with another native language to follow what the latter was saying. 

Mr. Crouch continued to speak, “Mx. Delacour will be asked to start the trial in about an hour, in the meantime, you should all take the time to think of an approach to the task. There is water for you to drink and should you need to use the bathroom, you can ask the Aurors outside for directions.” 

Delacour nodded as they were asked to start, determination settling upon their face in a way which made them remind Harry slightly of Draco. It was somewhat calming to see a reminder of his best friend in someone, in lack of the presence of that said friend. 

Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman left together, leaving the champions to work through their own plans. Harry knew exactly what to do, and in case that the Sleeping Charm didn’t work, he had Nott’s invention in his pocket. Harry had checked four times already that it was with him, and he checked once more as soon as the two adults had left the tent. It was still there, waiting for him to use. It made Harry feel calm to feel the item against his fingertips, even if he was also slightly worried about accidentally starting it whenever he touched it. 

“Lupin?” 

Diggory accidentally startled Harry as he approached him, almost making Harry hit the button to start the noisemaker in a fight or flight response. Harry spun around to face Diggory. His expression must have been somewhat panicked, as Diggory raised his hands to show that he was harmless. 

“Y-yes?” Harry stuttered out before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He let go of the noisemaker and straightened up. “Yes.” He repeated, as if that would somehow remove the earlier, embarrassingly nervous, response. 

Diggory lowered his hands. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry about my dad. He shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m really sorry that he couldn’t stop himself from almost saying bigoted things about your father.” 

“Oh, yes, that.” Harry nodded. He had been so unfocused for so long that it felt like Mr. Diggory’s comments had been spoken weeks ago. “Thank you for telling him off. I really appreciate it.” Harry didn’t say that it was ‘alright’ or that he ‘didn’t mind,’ he made certain that his comment was aimed towards Diggory himself, to communicate that Harry believed him to have done the right thing. 

Diggory leaned his head to the side, smiling at Harry. There was a slight sadness to his expression. “Dad works for the Ministry, specifically with Care for Magical Creatures. Dad has gotten some extra, misplaced aversion towards them because he believes them to not belong to his division. As I’m sure you know, werewolves have always been pushed back and forth between the divisions at the Ministry, with all of them arguing against having the responsibility for them.” Diggory’s expression turned slightly angry. “As if they weren’t people, but an inconvenience.” 

“Normally, I would be all for having this conversation with you.” Harry hurriedly spoke up before Diggory could continue. “But I’m really, really stressed right now, and I’m just not in a good mind-space to discuss injustices towards people like my dad right now…” Harry could feel his own legs tremble slightly, and his head and heart felt heavy with emotion. Had this been an average day, he might be able to have a conversation like this with a pretty much stranger like Diggory, but right now, it only threatened to break him down into a sobbing mess. 

Diggory nodded. “You are right. I’m sorry. Either way, rest assured that I won’t let dad speak like that again.” 

“T-thanks.” Harry mumbled before allowing himself to just sit back upon a chair and hide his face in his hands. Diggory’s words were a comfort, but Harry wasn’t necessarily in a state where he could be comforted. Especially not by a stranger. 

Then, he heard a familiar voice come from the opening of the tent. Added to it came another familiar voice. Harry raised his head to look towards the entrance, finding Draco and Hermione there, as they spoke to one of the Aurors about being allowed inside. Harry hadn’t noticed until now, but one of the guards was the same, bubbly and colorful woman who he had seen a few times last year when the Aurors patrolled Hogwarts. If he remembered correctly, this woman was the same one who had called Professor Snape ‘stick in the mud master.' She looked different than Harry remembered her, but her bright hair made her recognisable. 

“Look, I’m not supposed to let anyone bother the champions. I’m sorry, kids.” The Auror said, shaking her head. “You know what happened at the Quidditch Cup this summer.” 

“Because we are likely to be a danger to the champions.” Harry could hear on his tone of voice that Draco was raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Or set fire to the tent.”

“We just want to make sure our friend is alright.” Hermione filled in. 

“You might just be saying that you are friends with Mr. Lupin to get inside the tent to get a chance to drool over Mr. Krum.” The Auror objected again. 

“Hi, Hermione.” Krum had made it to the opening of the tent, where he politely greeted his friend with a small wave. 

“Hello, Victor. Can we please come inside to check on Harry?” Hermione immediately turned towards him with a hopeful smile. 

“Of course, come inside. Your friend’s name was… Mal…” Krum signalled for them to come in as he struggled to recall Draco’s name. It was very clear that the renowned Quidditch Champion knew that his status came with a few benefits and certain influence.

“Malfoy.” Draco gave him a relieved but not too big smile as he and Hermione stepped forward. 

The Auror stopped them once again. “I can’t just… Mr. Krum!” She huffed, then opened her mouth to say something more. 

However, she didn’t get to speak up again, as Harry more or less dashed past her and clashed into his two friends, hugging them both tightly. He momentarily forgot that Hermione wasn’t too comfortable with tight hugs in his need to be close to his friends. Both of them returned the hug, making them quite the collection of human limbs. Whatever objections the Auror had after that were obsolete, as all champions as well as the two guards realised that the fourteen year old child needed the support. The Aurors finally gave in and let Draco and Hermione pass, with the first one muttering about how it really was the right thing to do after all. 

Hermione pulled Harry over to a chair once they got back inside the tent, and started babbling in a whisper so as to not disturb the other champions and their preparations. Draco followed them after he had gathered some chairs for both himself and Hermione to put into their little corner. 

“We selected two people to go and see if we could check on you,” Hermione began. “Draco was a given, and then we thought that I would be a good choice to help you practice if you want to before the first trial. Oh, thank you.” She sat down upon the chair which Draco had gotten for her. “I hope it was alright that I came, you might have wanted Neville more, or Ron, but we still figured that maybe-” 

Harry leaned in to hug her again, this time, he remembered to not be too intrusive with his action. He pulled her head to his shoulder and hugged around her neck . “It’s great. You’re great. Thank you for coming.” 

Hermione clung his shirt in return, burrowing her face against his chest as she began to sob. Harry hadn’t been prepared for it, but he hugged her back, feeling the tears overflow in his eyes as well. 

Next to them, Draco sat down and crossed his legs, watching with a slightly amuse and concerned expression on his face. “Both of you definitely need to cry.” Draco concluded, perhaps more to himself than to them. Draco might very well be correct about that. Harry wasn't the only one who was bothered or hurt by th way the world had treated him for the past months, and worry for a friend or out of empathy was still valid worry. 

The rest of the champions didn’t bother too much with them, with the exception of Krum, who pulled a chair over to join them. He didn’t persume to be welcome in comforting either Harry or Hermione, so he busied himself with speaking to Draco. The conversation soon ended up being about Quidditch, which didn’t surprise Harry in the least. From what little he heard, the two of them appeared to get along. Despite Harry knowing what Draco felt in regards to his awe for Victor Krum, it wasn't very surprising to find his best friend perfectly capable of masking his feelings between polite attentiveness. 

It took Harry and Hermione a few minutes before they managed to calm down, but they did. Harry found that he felt oddly refreshed after having cried. He didn’t usually feel that way, but welcomed the feeling of not being a completely drained husk after letting the emotions take over. Hermione appeared happier as well, as she pulled some tissues from her pocket to blow her nose in. She then handed one to Harry so that he could do the same. 

Harry turned towards Draco, giving him a weak smile. “Thanks for coming. Today I’m not sobbing all over you I guess?” He chuckled to himself as he rubbed his neck, feeling oddly embarrassed all of a sudden. 

Draco returned the smile. “How unacceptable.” He joked back. “Did you meet with Professor Lupin earlier today? We exchanged a quick word but he was rather busy helping a girl in a wheelchair.” 

“We had breakfast together. That girl is Mx. Delacour’s sister.” Harry explained. 

Next to him, Hermione stood up to get some water, and returned with two cups, handing one to Harry. He thanked her and drank. The feeling of the cold water down his throat did wonders to clear his head further. 

For the first time, Harry felt like he could actually do this. 

He could go out there, face the animal in the way that he had been taught to, and come back safely. It was similar to that drive and will to live that Harry had felt in his chest when he had called forth his patronus last year. He had after all faced many things which most people would call horrible. He had faced the Dark Lord, a basilisk, a moon-crazed werewolf, as well as a pack of dementors. He had not really been alone during any of that, and while he had thought himself to be alone in this, he now realised that he wasn’t. Harry took a deep breath, feeling as if his heart was steadying in his chest. Had he cast the Patronus Charm at this point, he would definitely have produced something very strong. 

Hermione beamed at him, Draco smiled softly but confidently, and Krum nodded approvingly. All of them could tell that Harry was feeling better, or at the very least, that he was no longer feeling as helpless. 

“But we are the press, of course you will let us in!” A loud voice cut through the silence of the tent, causing everyone inside to look towards the entrance. 

There stood the woman who had ‘interviewed’ Harry, he remembered her name as Rita Skeeter. She was yet again dressed in aggressive green colors. albeit a slightly different outfit, which made her red glasses and red nails all the more apparent. To her left hovered that green quill, which was ever fatefully writing upon a roll of parchment, and to the right of her stood her cameraman. Harry saw that same Delacour muttered something under their breath as they noticed the woman, while Diggory shifted uncomfortably. 

Krum’s face became blank. “Stay back a little,” he told the group of friends as he got to his feet and approached Skeeter. 

Her face lit up as he approached. “Oh, Victor. Victory! Would you please tell these two ladies that I’m supposed to be interviewing the champions by now?” She batted her eyelashes at him, waving furiously while doing so. 

Krum nodded once before grabbing the fabric which functioned as a door to the tent, and pulled in close in front of her face. He didn’t need to say anything, the gesture was enough to signal perfectly well that she wasn’t welcomed. 

Harry could hear the colorful Auror’s voice from the other side of the tent sheet, “you heard the man, lady, move along.” 

He smiled, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the tent offered Krum their version of a thankful expression. Krum shrugged them away, sat back down, and returned to speaking to Draco about Quidditch and training regimes. Harry thought that talking about something he knew well might be Krum’s way of relaxing. 

After a little less than an hour had passed, Mr. Crouch appeared in the tent again, signalling to all the champions but also to Harry and his friends, that the preparations were complete. Somewhere outside, as if from a distance, they could hear how Mr. Bagman addressed the crowd of spectators, but it was too far away for them to hear what he was saying. 

“Gather around please.” Mr. Crouch waved at them all to approach, which they did, with the exception of Draco and Hermione. The man didn’t even notice them, instead focusing his attention on the champions and Harry. “You will be collected when it is your turn to face your wyvern, they will all be different ones, nobody will steal from the same one twice. You will follow a tunnel through the stands of the arena, and reach the center where the creature resides. The arena is soundproof from the inside, meaning that we can hear you, but you won’t hear anything inside there. Further, when you are inside the arena, the outside will appear to be a normal forest, this is so as to not frighten the beasts. You will be judged on method, magic and the speed with which you completed the trial, and receive points accordingly. In summary, the insides are designed to keep the wyverns pleased, and while it may appear to you that you are alone in there, the trial is still observed.” He glanced towards Harry. “And for you, we will be ready to intervene at any point, and we will know what effect the contract with the Goblet of Fire has had on you.”

Harry licked his lips and nodded.

“Any questions?” Mr. Crouch looked them over, then nodded. “Very well, Mx. Delacour, are you ready to begin?” 

Delacour checked their bun, then nodded. “I am ready.” Their French accent became somewhat more pronounced as they responded, signalling to Harry that they were probably at least somewhat shaken but nonetheless determined. 

“Then come with me. I will come retrieve Mr. Diggory once Mx. Delacour has finished their trial, and your opponent has been settled in.” Mr. Crouch took the time to prepare Diggory as well before he exited the tent, followed by the Beauxbatons Academy champion. 

The tent became very quiet after Delacour left, with each champion sinking into their own thoughts. They didn’t know how long it would take for them to complete the trial, and they couldn’t see anything of it, which meant that while they could hear that the trial had started, judging by the distant wild cheers, that was pretty much all they knew. 

The noises dimmed down, then Diggory was collected, and the noises became apparent once more. Then it repeated all over again when Krum was told to follow Mr. Crouch. Nobody returned to the champions’ tent, which made Harry all the more relieved that his friends were there with him, or he would have gone mad with the silence. 

At last, Mr. Crouch returned once more to ask Harry to join him. Only now did he notice Draco and Hermione, but the man simply told them to return to the arena, instead of remaining in the tent. Even Mr. Crouch seemed aware that the unwilling participant and minor had needed the support of his friends.

Harry squeezed both their hands before following Mr. Crouch out of the tent. Together, they walked alongside the outside of the giant arena in silence, with Harry struggling to keep pace with the older man. When he looked up towards the construction, Harry found that he couldn’t even see the audience behind all the wood. Mr. Crouch led him to an opening in the structure, which appeared to be leading into a forest on the other side. Harry saw a weak shimmering by the end of the tunnel, which reminded him of the barrier that he had seen back at the wyvern cage in the forest. There was no doubt in his mind that there was a draconic creature on the other end of this tunnel, and that made him feel slightly dizzy just to think of. 

Mr. Crouch turned towards Harry, his expression was empty as he gestured towards the tunnel. “Everything has been arranged for you.” He stated in so simple a manner that it surprised Harry. Mr. Crouch words sounded so rehearsed that they became oddly insincere. 

“Thank you… Mr. Crouch.” Harry bowed his head slightly before turning towards the tunnel. 

Still, he only managed to take a step forward before the man hastily grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise but it was enough of a desperate grab that Harry flinched. When he turned and looked upon the man, Mr. Crouch’s expression was desperate, his eyes wild. Harry stared back at him, feeling his heart race in his chest. That was not an expression which one wanted to see before going out to face a wyvern, and it was not an expression he had expected to see Mr. Crouch make. 

“Junior… I’m… I don’t… I shouldn’t have let you…” Mr. Crouch mumbled as his fingers clung to Harry’s shirt. “Don’t… I can’t…” 

“Let go.” In hindsight, Harry felt like he should have figured something better to say, but he couldn’t think of anything else for the moment. He lifted his hand to try and pry the other off, but he didn’t need to. 

Mr. Crouch let go, his expression having returned to that distant, hard and tired look. He straightened up and looked down upon Harry. “I apologise.” He said simply. “I must have been confused. Good luck.” This time, he let Harry walk into the tunnel without objection. 

Harry glanced back once but the strange behavior of Mr. Crouch was soon forgotten by him as he came closer and closer to the lair of the wyvern. He could feel the scent of the greenery in front of him as he slowly crept towards the opening towards the arena. Harry felt fear grow inside of him with every step, he could hear Crabbe’s words in his head, reminding him of how he had to win the Tournament for the sake of the Slytherin House. In the moment, Harry could only think of those words above all the evidence he had received from far more credible people who told him that he didn’t have to fight for glory. The blame burned more prominently than all the kind words, causing guilt to ache in Harry’s chest. 

The greenery was coming closer and closer, the verdant colors seeming to be the only thing existing within the dark tunnel alongside Harry and his panicked heartbeat. If the contract with the Goblet of Fire was legitimate, then Harry wouldn’t have a choice but to give his all in this trial. He checked his pocket once more for the noisemaker as he readied his wand with his other hand. 

The greenery was coming closer still, even though Harry didn’t feel like his legs were moving. His friends had helped him prepare, he knew the Sleeping Charm by heart, so well that he could probably do it in his sleep. Harry began to repeat it in his head, careful not to move his wand while practicing the words nonverbally. 

The greenery was right in front of him now, all he needed to do was take a few steps forward and enter the arena, and so the battle would begin. 

Harry stopped, his body throbbing with all kinds of emotions and worries as he hesitated before taking that last step into the greenery. He had to do it, he had to enter the green forest on the other side, where the wyvern was residing, guarding his eggs while waiting for his partner to return to him. It felt so hopelessly cruel to Harry that he was expected to steal one of those eggs from old Curly Tail and break the parent’s heart like that, all for a stupid trial to determine what school was the best at teaching magic. The poor beast had nothing to do with it, and Harry really, really didn’t want to fight him. Harry felt angry over the whole ordeal, angry at the Trimagus Tournament for deciding that the wyverns had to suffer for the mages’ entertainment. He felt angry that he had to participate in this madness. Yet, Harry had no choice. He was as powerless as old Curly Tail, faithfully guarding the eggs in his nest, knowing nothing about the thief which was forced to steal the wyvern’s perceived child. 

Harry had to take that last step, he had to fight. 

He had no choice. 

Or did he?

Harry realised that nothing was actually forcing him to enter the arena right at the moment. 

He straightened up, then slowly took a step backwards. Nothing compelled him to move forward again. Harry took another step back, still facing the greenery. Still nothing. He began walking backwards, watching as the greenery shrunk back into a little window of green at the end of the dark tunnel. 

Harry found himself laughing out loud as he turned away from the path to the wyvern’s lair, and ran away towards the way he had come.

The contract wasn’t valid, he wasn’t bound to fight at all.  He didn’t even have to enter the arena, he could just leave, which was exactly what he was doing. Harry ran faster, feeling his heart dance in his chest with excitement at the promise of freedom as he ran towards the opening opposite the greenery behind him. 

He felt a little bad to just abandon everything like this, to not use Nott’s noisemaker or Charlie Weasley’s spell, to not listen to Crabbe or fight for the honor of Hogwarts or Slytherin, but it didn’t matter. Harry wasn’t bound to compete in the Trimagus Tournament. He couldn't be forced to participate against his will. He wouldn't have to experience uncomfortable and dangerous things for the sake of other people's entertainment and desires, people who weren't forced to work for any of it themselves, and not forced to experience it first hand. It might not be safe to leave the competition altogether, but he could at the very least forfeit the tasks, probably, he felt like he could, like nothing was stopping him from doing what was best for himself. 

Harry more or less flew out of the tunnel and into the light of the day. He hadn’t been stopped at all, nothing had forced him to compete. Harry raised his hands towards the blue sky and the fluffy clouds which carelessly sailed in that ocean of blue. He let out a scream of victory, yelling towards the sky at the top of his lungs as his happiness got too big to contain within himself. 

“I forfeit! I forfeit the first trial!” He yelled as loud as he could, as he didn’t have any other option but to let it all our. It felt even better to scream than it had to cry, even more empowering than to simply wave his arms at the sky. “I forfeit!” He yelled again as the excitement continued to threaten to make him burst. 

Harry breathed hard, feeling the sweat under his armspits and upon his forehead as he stood with his arms raised, still holding his wand. He then looked around and realised that there was nobody around to hear him forfeit, which might have been as well, as his display of happiness was rather embarrassing in hindsight. With heating cheeks, Harry licked his lips, looked around, then began to jog back towards the champions’ tent where he planned on asking the Aurors for help to properly forfeit in front of someone who would acknowledge it to the rest of the participants, audience, and the judges. 

The whole event proved, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wasn’t Harry Potter, as the contract with the Goblet of Fire would have been inescapable if that had been the case, or so all the adults around him had kept informing him.

No, he wasn’t Harry Potter. He was Harry Lupin, the proud son of a werewolf. 


	18. Chapter 17 - In which celebrations are being had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione placed her copy of the newspaper down, causing all teenagers without a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ to worriedly lean over to see her expression. To their great relief, she didn’t look upset, in fact, she looked more relieved than they did. 
> 
> “It’s not anything bad.” She looked towards Harry with a smile as she handed him her newspaper. “It’s actually… Dare I say, kind of, really, good?” 
> 
> She looked towards Blaise to confirm, as the teenager was just lowering his newspaper. 
> 
> “Yeah. I say that it’s good.” Blaise agreed with a nod. 

The people who gathered in the champions’ tent with Harry were all celebrating the fact that Harry didn’t have to compete. The collective worry of all of them exploded into cheers and happiness that Harry would be alright, and that the Trimagus Tournament from here on wouldn’t be about Harry having to manage, but that he would be safe from there on. 

Remus was endlessly relieved, so much so that Harry thought that his dad would cry, but somehow he managed not to, or at the very least when Harry was looking. Professor Snape was there as well, Harry didn’t know if he had come as the Head of the Slytherin House or if he had accompanied Remus as his partner, but he was happy to see him. Snuffles was right with the teenagers, who were all speaking over one another in happy exclamations as they surrounded Harry, congratulating him on being able to forfeit the first trial. Over these human voices rose Snuffles’ barks as he ran around in circles in the tent. 

Draco was the closest to Harry, with Hermione being on his other side. Neville, Ron and Nott were in front of him, Blaise was somewhere behind him alongside Lovegood, Ginny and Creevy, the two young Gryffindor students had somehow managed to join when the older Gryffindors had left the stands to join Harry in celebration. To Harry’s surprise, Goyle had joined his fellow Slytherin students and was cheering equally loud as everyone else over Harry’s freedom, while the adults stood back a bit. That was until Hagrid came storming inside, demanding that he would get to shake Harry’s hand for being the only one of the champions to not engage with the wyvern. Harry was glad to shake his hand, even if the result had his fingers ache slightly. 

It felt like a dream. A wonderful, happy, unreal dream. Everyone appeared to be equally happy and relieved for Harry’s sake. Harry himself felt as if he had been trapped in a cold and dark space with limited oxygen, but was now free and could breathe properly for the first time in years. For the first time since October, Harry felt unapologetically happy. 

Afterwards, Harry really didn’t remember a lot of the rest of that day. It all rather blurred together into a happy memory with an underlying feeling of finally being fine. He was informed by somebody that Delacour had scored the highest points in the first trial, thus placing first. They had used a Sleeping Charm to put the wyvern to sleep, therefore winning high points with the judges both for the magic used and the lack of violence employed. They would be celebrating with their fellow Beauxbatons students that evening, alongside their sister. 

Harry learnt from his dad that said sister was named Gabrielle, and that the girl in question was not approving of all the stairs at Hogwarts. However, her wheelchair had been enchanted to hover whenever she encountered difficult terrain, such as stairs or otherwise bumpy ground. All she needed was someone to push her wheelchair, as she couldn’t actually wheel it around once the hovering spell was activated. This meant that in general, Gabrielle Delacour was fine, but in need of someone to help her move around, especially when climbing stairs. Nott would later find a time to ask the girl about her wheelchair and learn that it was created out of a combination of magic and certain muggle technology, with some form of mechanic which folded the wheels in under the chair the hovering magic was triggered, making sure that they weren’t harmed once the chair was hovering. The chair couldn't hover all the time since that would make it impossible for he to move anywhere where Muggles might spot her. It also meant that Gabrielle Delacour’s general position, or height, in the chair didn’t constantly change, as that would likely have triggered motion sickness. 

Further, Diggory placed second in the first trial. He had conjured a dog to distract the wyvern. However, this had led to fighting between the animal and the semi-animal, resulting in higher stress levels for the wyvern, alongside some minor injuries. This wasn’t something that the judges celebrated with overly high scores, but the impressive magic and the final time made up for it in terms of points.

Krum had placed last, he had summoned his broom from somewhere outside the arena to fly around the wyvern and grab the golden egg. This had meant that his broom crashed through the magical barrier of the constructed cage, scaring both the wyvern and the audience. However, in the end, he got comparatively low points because the magic he had displayed wasn’t that impressive or effective, not to mention that it had taken quite some time for the broom to arrive. By the time Krum had gotten said broom, Delacour had already retrieved the golden egg during their trial. Harry, of course, got zero points, as he wasn’t actually competing, and had forfeited on top of that. 

By the time Remus and Snuffles had to go back home, Harry said goodbye to them both, and followed his friends back to the Slytherin dormitory where they proceeded to celebrate until they pretty much fell asleep where they stood. 

Hermione, Neville and Ron broke the rules by spending the night in the Slytherin dormitory without Professor Snape’s permission, and it cost both Houses fifteen points each for disobedience. They were all comparatively certain that the Head of the Slytherin House wouldn’t have refused them if they just asked, but as it was, the removed points were a punishment they couldn’t really argue against. As for the younger students, they hadn’t spent the day celebrating with them, but had to go back to their own lives and duties. Thus, the group that celebrated into the night consisted of only fourth year Slytherin and Gryffindor students. 

Crabbe hadn’t returned to their dormitory that evening. They would later learn that he had taken Nott’s old bed in his assigned dormitory, to escape their celebrations. However, nobody really minded Crabbe’s absence, least of all Nott. It was very fair on Crabbe’s part to not want to be bothered by them throughout the night, even if his avoidance probably had more to do with Harry forfeiting the trial. 

That night, Nott slept in Harry’s bed, curled together with Ron, both of them having crashed after a sugar high. Harry slept with Draco, as had become routine. Blaze had politely asked Neville to sleep in his bed, which Neville had agreed to, although the two of them had not ended up sharing blankets. Hermione, being the only young woman of the group, had been offered Goyle’s bed while he slept in Crabbe’s, as he was the only one comfortable enough with Crabbe to actually borrow his bed. Hermione very thankfully accepted the offer, and would later report to Goyle that she had been very comfortable during the night. All in all, once everyone had tired enough to fall asleep, nobody had the energy to be all that picky about where they slept. 

The next day, Harry awoke with a slight headache but luckily, he had a warm Draco to push his forehead against to try and amend said headache. It worked a little bit, but not as much as washing his face with cold water, which Harry would do a little later that morning. 

After being reprimanded by Professor Snape and had their House points removed, the group sleepily but happily made their way towards the Great Hall to have a very late breakfast. Nobody, with the exception of Hermione, felt all that bad about losing points, although she quickly forgot about her troubles, as their owls had been waiting for them in the Great Hall and wasted little time to deliver their respective mail so that they could leave for the Owlery. Nott caught his copy of _The Quibbler_ with his face, Blaise caught his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ expertly, while Hermione fumbled with her copy for some time before finally catching it properly. Draco missed his copy of the newspaper completely, and had to bend down to pick it up, which he did graciously. 

“Oh, cool. _The Quibbler_ is running a special on Gilderoy Lockhart’s documented lies that he put in his books.” Nott removed the newspaper from his face to look at the front page. He snorted. “‘No comment from Mr. Lockhart could be taken.’ Yeah no, I bet, not with him being locked up in Azkaban for his crimes.” He looked up at Blaise as the group moved towards the Slytherin table. “What is the mad ol’ Prof saying?” 

Blaise looked up from having skimmed through the front page. He glanced towards Draco before answering Nott. “It seems that in addition to reporting about the results of the first trial… The newspaper interviewed Lucius Malfoy about the Trimagus Tournament as a whole.” 

“What?” Draco blinked, then stopped midstep to unfold his copy to have a look at the cover of the newspaper. 

There were three pictures upon the front page, and three different stories which headlines were silently yelling up at Draco and Harry, who leaned in to see if Blaise’s words were true. The biggest picture depicted Fleur Delacour, raising their golden egg above their head, as Diggory awkwardly stood to behind them to the right, holding his egg in front of him. He looked happy, but somewhat out of place. Next to Diggory but behind Delacour stood Krum, holding both his broom and his egg while he glanced off into the distance. Most people looking at the picture would find that Krum looked annoyed or angry, but Harry realised that he must have struggled a lot with differentiating noises at the moment when the picture was taken, as the three people were surrounded by a cheering crowd. The headline above the three champions read ‘Delacour Victory! - Beauxbaton Academy places first in Trimagus Tournament first task’ with the first letters being bigger than the following sentence. 

However, underneath that headline, just like Blaise had said, there was Mr. Malfoy’s picture, small, but still upon the front page. He was sitting in Narcissa Malfoy’s tea room, which Harry recognised due to the furniture and the fireplace which were both visible in the photograph. Mr. Malfoy was dressed in his usual style of expensive looking attire, sitting cross legged in Mrs. Malfoy’s favorite armchair, while smiling politely towards the camera with his hand resting upon his cane. Every now and then the moving picture would shift to look away from the camera, likely focusing on whoever was interviewing him. Mr. Malfoy would nod, listening to words inaudiable for the reader, while remaining the very picture of sophisticated attentiveness and political professionalism. The headline above the man’s photograph read ‘Newly instated Hogwarts Governor addresses the Trimagus Tournament. More on page 8’ 

To the right of Mr. Malfoy’s picture was a picture of Charlie Weasley, standing outside the dragon cage. He was awkwardly smiling at the camera, while shifting between thumbs up and the victory sign, which he displayed one after the other in an endless loop of uncertainty. Next to his picture, a small headline stated ‘Dragon Keeper on myth of Wizard VS Dragon. more on page 10.’

Draco began to turn the pages to get to the interview with his father, but Harry gently encouraged him to sit down before he started reading. Draco looked about, realised that Harry was right, and proceeded to sit down before starting to read, thus disappearing behind the newspaper without even acknowledging that there was breakfast in front of him. In lack of other ideas of what to do while he waited, Harry poured himself and Draco a cup of tea each, before passing the teapot to Neville so that he could pour some for Hermione and Blaise, both of which had also disappeared behind their copies of _The Daily Prophet_. 

Ron and Nott glanced at one another where they sat together beside Blaise. Neither of them looked sure of what to do, and the silence wasn’t something either of them enjoyed dealing with. 

“Uh… how is the Lockhart article?” Ron asked. 

“Uh, good. It’s, you know, nice that they try to actually correct misinformation.” Nott responded. His copy of the Quibbler lay uponened between them.

“Yeah. Lockhart was a tool. Good thing that he’s locked up for his crimes.” Ron agreed in a stiff manner as he poured himself some coffee.

It was rather evident that the two didn’t know what to talk about, and ended up sounding like performers who were trying to cover for an actor who was late in coming up on stage. Although the two performers in question had never had to improvise before. 

Hermione placed her copy of the newspaper down, causing all teenagers without a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ to worriedly lean over to see her expression. To their great relief, she didn’t look upset, in fact, she looked more relieved than they did. 

“It’s not anything bad.” She looked towards Harry with a smile as she handed him her newspaper. “It’s actually… Dare I say, kind of, really, good?” 

She looked towards Blaise to confirm, as the teenager was just lowering his newspaper. 

“Yeah. I say that it’s good.” Blaise agreed with a nod. 

Harry accepted Hermione’s copy, and turned to page 8, where he was met with another, much bigger photo of Lucius Malfoy in the Malfoy tea room. Harry licked his lips and began to read, feeling his heart beating oddly fast in his chest as he did. 

> ### NEWLY REINSTATED HOGWARTS GOVERNOR ADDRESSES THE TRIMAGUS TOURNAMENT
> 
> **Lucius Malfoy, reinstated Hogwarts Governor and the Head of Hogwarts PR has agreed to discuss the Trimagus Tournament with the Daily Prophet, and, according to Mr. Malfoy, addresses some public concerns in regards to the Tournament on Hogwarts part.** **(** **_The Prophet_ ** **and the Ministry reminds the reader that the Head of Hogwarts PR does not speak for the British Ministry of Magic.)**
> 
> (Mr. Malfoy met with his interviewer the late afternoon after the Trimagus Tournament first task began to discuss some public concerns about the events. Mr. Malfoy speaks to _The Prophet_ as the Head of Hogwarts PR, a position which has newly come into function through the Hogwarts Board of Governors.)
> 
> **Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly tell the readers who you are and what you do?**
> 
> My name is Lucius Malfoy, I am a landowner and I have recently been reinstated as a governor in the Hogwarts Board of Governors, says Mr. Malfoy to _The Prophet._ With the Trimagus Tournament currently taking place in Britain, the Board found themselves somewhat lacking in that it has not yet publicly addressed the concerns of the British mage community, and so I was asked if I wished to return to the board in the form of the Head of Hogwarts PR. Which is a newly created position within the Board itself. 
> 
> (He smiles, asking if the interviewer minds not asking more about the duties of his position, as he finds the time short and the position self explanatory.)
> 
> **Of course. The public has been asking about the safety measures taken by Hogwarts to ensure the safety of the students and the people visiting for the trials. Especially since the safety measures taken at the Quidditch World Cup have been acknowledged to be lacking.**
> 
> The safety is primarily handled by the Ministry of Magic, not by the Hogwarts Board of governors. With that being said, rather than the usual expected security, we have worked together with the Ministry to assure Auror protection at the events. Further, nobody without a purchased ticket will be allowed onto the school grounds, meaning that the available space will not be overcrowded and thus providing a security risk, Mr. Malfoy explains patiently, all the while appearing calm and pleasant. 
> 
> **The public are concerned about the appearance of a fourth champion, what is the Board’s opinion on these surprising events?**
> 
> Many measures were taken to ensure that only students who were capable and of a certain age would be able to enter their names into the magical artifact known as the Goblet of Fire. It was through this process that accomplished mages such as Mr. Krum, Mx. Delacour and Mr. Diggory were chosen to compete. However, magical artifacts are fickle, and the older they are, the more they tend to cause complications upon use. The tradition of employing the Goblet of Fire for the ritual of choosing was a mistake, the Board acknowledges this fully and will not permit further use of the Goblet in any future Trimagus Tournaments. We regret that such a young student has tragically been involved in the Tournament, but as we do not yet fully know the effects of the magical contract that was created by the use of the Goblet of Fire, the situation has been most troublesome for everyone. Most of all the child in question. 
> 
> **Why is Harry Potter allowed in the Tournament to begin with?**
> 
> (Lucius Malfoy frowns at this question, and sits himself up somewhat before answering the question.) 
> 
> I feel that it is my duty as a member of the Hogwarts Board of governors, the Head of Hogwarts RP to correct this misunderstanding in regards to Harry Potter. 
> 
> (He stops to allow the interviewer to take his words in.) 
> 
> Namely that there is in fact no Harry Potter involved in this tournament. As a matter of fact, the child who has been caught up in it is named Harry Lupin, and it is by this very distinction of identity that he has been revealed to not be bound by the Goblet’s magical contract, as was previously feared. Young Mr. Lupin was not ‘allowed’ in the Trimagus Tournament, he was forced to remain because it was feared that refusal to oblige the contract might cause the boy physical or magical harm. 
> 
> **I’m afraid I don’t quite follow. Are you saying that there is no Harry Potter?**
> 
> (Mr. Malfoy leans forward as he answers, locking eyes with the interviewer.)
> 
> What I am saying is that, as the Lupins are family friends of the Malfoys, I find myself shocked both as a friend and as a mage, by the British mage community’s continuous harmful behaviour when it comes to their application of Harry Potter, the symbol, to Harry Lupin, the person. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, has had a profound impact on all our lives, and for putting an end to a reign of terror, we are him ever thankful. However, young Mr. Lupin is not that symbol, he is a living, breathing person, whose continuous exposure by Rita Skeeter has caused the boy to have to face issues which we, as adults, and as a community, shouldn’t force upon a mere child. The article written by Skeeter was slander, completely unrepresentative of the boy whom I personally know, and it has contributed to this false idea of what Harry Potter is. In fact, the mention of Harry Potter completely removed the focus on the Trimagus Tournament and its champions, to what I believe was quite the outcry of the mage community as well as the champions. 
> 
> **How will further trials proceed, now that it has been revealed that the fourth champion can resign from the trials?**
> 
> That will be discussed with Mr. Lupin in the future, but I am imagining that he will resign from the following trials as well, Mr. Malfoy smiles. I am certain that _The Daily Prophet_ will get to know in due time, but for the moment I want to stress that the Hogwarts Board of governors, as well as those in charge of the Trimagus Tournament, wishes only for Mr. Lupin’s continued safety. As a personal wish of mine, I’d hope that this will be the last time that Mr. Lupin is mentioned in the newspapers, so that he may focus on his studies at Hogwarts in peace and might allow this whole event to become but an unpleasant memory. 
> 
> **Are there any other concerns about the Trimagus Tournament that you would wish to share with the readers?**
> 
> I would simply seek to remind the visitors and observers of the trials to bring their trash to the designed trash bins. After all, they are primarily adults attending school grounds, and littering above the age of twenty is shameful. At least children have an excuse, adults should indeed know better. 
> 
> **Thank you for your time, Mr. Malfoy.**
> 
> Thank you, _The Daily Prophet_ , for allowing me this chance to address the concerns of the public in the words of the Hogwarts Board of governors. 

Harry looked up from the newspaper and found that Neville was reading the article as well, while Ron and Nott were huddled together around what appeared to be Blaise’s copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Hermione and Blaise were looking at Harry, but Harry found himself looking at Draco. Draco’s gaze found Harry’s, and the two of them simply stared at the other as they tried to process what they had actually just read. 

Draco slowly raised a hand up to touch his own lips, then covered them with his hand. He sat like that for about two seconds, still staring at Harry, before a weak laugh broke through the wall he had built between his lips and the world. Draco’s eyes were slightly wet, but he was by no means crying. “I can’t believe he did that… Father… He… I just can’t believe…” 

Harry chuckled as well, shaking his head in disbelief. He felt his heart almost tremble in his chest, his stomach feeling warm with happiness and a strange inclusion of pride. It felt weird to be proud over an adult, but the feelings which wrestle around inside of Harry had no other name but pride. “We’re family friends now, can you imagine?” 

Lucius Malfoy had stated in an interview aimed at the entire British mage community that his Pureblood family were friends with a known werewolf. When Draco had demanded that his father show that he had changed, Mr. Malfoy had apparently decided to go above and beyond. Not to mention that the man had done what Harry could not, and enforced to the world that his name was Harry Lupin, and that Harry Potter was but a symbol. Both of those things were incredible on their own, but together, they were almost unbelievable. 

Harry and Draco continued to only look at one another, and chuckle weakly as they found themselves at a loss for words. Both of them shared the same happiness, although Draco’s disbelief and relief was far more present than Harry’s. 

“He didn’t tell me that he was reinstated as a governor. This is the first I hear of it.” Once Draco had regained control over his laughter and expression, he lowered his hand to simply smile at Harry. “I could never have dreamt that he would… That father would…” He trailed off again, his happiness visible to anyone who even glanced his way. 

It made Harry incredibly happy to see his friend like this. Draco’s happiness made him at least twice as beautiful, the way his thin lips were pulled back to reveal more of his teeth than usual, the wrinkles which formed at the corners of his eyes and forehead when he smile, and the way his eyes seemed to shine as he leaned his head slightly to the side made him appear almost otherworldly. Harry’s brain suddenly toyed with the idea of kissing him. His mind produced theories about what Draco would do if he just leaned in and pushed their lips together, painting beautiful, happy pictures of shared affection. When Harry realised what was happening, he quickly backtracked his thoughts until he was back to thinking about how much Draco’s happiness comforted him. 

“May I have my newspaper back, Harry?” Hermione spoke up, reminding Harry of the fact that the world was still there, even if his head had escaped to someplace else. 

“Uh… Y-yeah…?” Harry found that he was still holding on to _The Daily Prophet_ and returned it to her. He made a note to himself that he wanted to read the article about Charlie Weasley too, but figured that he could do that alongside Draco, rather than stealing Hermione’s newspaper. 

“Thank you.” She grabbed it, leaning past Draco to accept it. Draco, in turn, leaned back to allow the exchange to be smoother. Almost as soon as it was returned to her, Hermione disappeared behind the newspaper once more. 

“Here.” On the other side of the table, Neville returned Draco’s copy of _The Daily Prophet_ which he had borrowed. 

“Thanks.” Draco accepted it. In doing so, he happened to look at the table. “Oh… who gave me tea?” 

Opposite of Draco, Neville nodded towards Harry, upon which the blonde wizard smiled at Harry and thanked him. Harry waved his gratitude away, although his cheeks heated slightly. 

After their collective realisation that Lucius Malfoy was trying hard to earn his son’s affection back, the group had a relatively calm late breakfast. Ron and Nott read the Quibbler, speaking up every now and then about Lockhart. Their reasonings mostly ended up on questions about how anyone had actually believed him in the first place. 

Draco and Harry read Charlie Weasley’s article together while eating breakfast. Harry felt a little embarrassed to be so close to Draco after having had stray thoughts about kissing him, but Draco didn’t seem to notice at all. Underneath the table, Draco’s expensive and slightly pointy shoes absently played with the end of Harry’s trousers leg, which made it a little harder for Harry to read. Not impossible, just slightly harder. 

> ### DRAGON KEEPER SPEAKS UP ON THE MYTH OF MAGE VS DRAGON
> 
> **Charlie Weasley, graduate of Hogwarts and current dragon keeper spoke to** **_The Daily Prophet_ ** **yesterday about the wyverns which appeared in the first trial of the Trimagus Tournament. Mr. Weasley, currently employed by a branch of the Ministry of Magic and selected spokesperson for the Wyvberg Draconic Sanctuary, was being interviewed as an effort by the Ministry to keep the members of the mage community informed about the details and efforts behind the Trimagus Tournament.**
> 
> (A cage housing the wyverns seen at the first Trimagus Tournament trial was built inside the Forbidden Forest. The open cage only contains male specimens of wyverns, as the males are less violent than the female ones. The spacious cage allows them to roam free to a certain extent, ensuring the health of the wyverns and reduces the overall impact that the draconic creatures have on the environment. The interview with Mr. Weasley took place outside the cage, out of safe reach from the wyverns.)
> 
> **Good day, Mr. Weasley, would you tell us who you are and what you work with?**
> 
> Hi. I’m Charlie Weasley, a dragon keeper, not a tamer, mind you, dragons cannot be tamed and neither can draconic creatures. Moreover, they don’t deserve it, which is even more important. I currently work for the Trimagus Tournament committee. I’m usually working as an employee at the Romanian Draconic Rescue, although I’m currently an educated volunteer and spokesperson for Wyvberg Draconic Sanctuary here in the UK. 
> 
> **Tell us about the wyverns in the cage.**
> 
> We have four wyverns in the cage, all of them are male. There is one of them for each champion, and an older boy for Mr. Lupin. It might seem unfair, but as he isn’t actually qualified to be a champion, his safety is more important. Besides, he’s not getting any points for the trial, this stuff really doesn’t matter as long as he is safe. (For more information about the first trial, see pages 4-6.) 
> 
> Either way, these boys are all from the Wyvberg Draconic Sanctuary, they aren’t from the wilds, but sheltered animals which, for various reasons, cannot be released. This makes them less aggressive and more used to humans, which makes them slightly less deadly to face as a wild animal would. That doesn’t mean that these beasts are tame or safe, but they are safer. (He emphasises the -er part.)
> 
> **Why were wyverns chosen for the first task?**
> 
> Yeah, alright, so here is the thing about wyverns, dragons and draconic creatures; there is this idea that facing dragons is a test of bravery. We see it in muggle history with knights with swords and pikes slaying dragons, and we see it in magic history where brave mages slay dragons with their awesome magic. Yet, here is the thing: you can’t slay a dragon or draconic creature. It will slay you. They are just that powerful. That really isn’t a challenge, it is simply the truth. Not to mention, there is absolutely no need to fight a dragon, unless it becomes a real problem for a community. There is this misconception that we as dragon keepers fight dragons but what we do is actually to put them to sleep and relocate them. Either way, dragons and draconic creatures are not monsters, they are animals. Killing them for glory is the same kind of messed up that makes cruel people chase after unicorns or make muggles chase tigers and elephants for no reason. It makes me sick to think that dragons and draconic creatures have become challenges for mad people to hunt throughout history, and when the animal becomes defensive or kills someone, it is labelled a monster by other people for doing nothing but trying to keep itself safe. (He adds with passion and anger, balling his fists.)
> 
> **What is the difference between dragons and draconic creatures?**
> 
> The line between them is rather diffuse, and it is debated by scholars, however, the general rule is that anything with less than four legs, and that is generally smaller than a hut, is classified as a draconic creature, while a four legged beast that can breathe fire is almost always a dragon. It varies from person to person. A wyvern is classified as a draconic creature primarily due to their bipedalism and their size. The wyverns behind me have acidic breaths, but there are subspecies of wyverns who can actually breathe fire, but I’m getting off topic. 
> 
> **Dragon keeper is a very popular dream job for many young mages. What would you say to the people who dream of having a job like yours?**
> 
> I was one of those kids! (He laughs heartily.) While I understand the appeal, and while we do need new generations of dragon keepers to keep these magnificent creatures from extinction, I want to state that it is a dangerous profession. I have known many great men, women, and people outside and within the spectrum of gender, who were lost because they misjudged something about a creature. I myself have many scars after I received injuries during work. However, if you want to support our efforts and our work without being directly involved with the creatures, many draconic sanctuaries and the dragon focused organisations need further funding to continue doing what we do. Your support would be invaluable to us. Thank you. 
> 
> **Thank you for your time, Mr. Weasley. When will the wyverns be taken back to the sanctuary where they belong?**
> 
> No problem, we will be returning them beginning tomorrow. Nice talking to you. 

Next to Draco, Hermione put her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ to the side and reached for another muffin with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Rita Skeeter has been fired from _The Daily Prophet._ There was a small little note at the end of the paper.” She bit into the muffin. “I shouldn’t be this happy, but it serves her right, even if they are using her as a scapegoat to escape blame for the article they published about Harry.”

“I’m glad that they fired her but it’s kind of irresponsible of them to just let her take the blame like that.” Neville sounded slightly disapproving as he stared down at the logo of the newspaper. 

“I’m expecting that a lot of my father’s words have been edited to say ‘Rita Skeeter’ instead of _The Daily Prophet._ ” Draco agreed, his foot stopping its playing with Harry’s leg. “I might not know him very well, but I know that my father has never been one to mince words if he is dissatisfied. I can’t believe that he would blame the person who wrote the article in front of the newspaper which chose to publish it in that form.” He thought for a second. “Although that does of course not mean that he approves of her, but he wouldn’t blame only her.” 

Harry smiled a little shyly, still feeling butterflies in his stomach even after Draco stopped softly poking at him. “I feel a little bad to say that I feel a lot more relieved in general without her having any claim to me via _The Daily Prophet_.” 

“I feel relieved about that without any guilt.” Ron huffed, shaking his head. “She exposed you to that all on her own, she deserves what was coming for her.” 

Nott nodded. “The truth can’t be argued with.” 

He and Ron high fived in agreement, then both rubbed the palm of their hands in pain, as excitement had gotten the better of them. Blaise looked at them both with an unimpressed look, but the rest of the group were sympathetic towards their shared plight. Luckily, there was a lot of food to choose from which they could use as comfort food to ease their physical pain. 

The group of friends decided to have a slow day, which mostly consisted of relaxing and just spending time with one another. They sought to occupy a study room together. During their search they were joined by Lovegood who managed to sort of stray into their path, rather than seek to join them. Thus, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Nott, Blaise and Lovegood struggled to find a room which could fit them all, finally having to give up and gather together around a large table in the library. 

Ron and Nott remained by the table while the others went to search for a book to keep them occupied so as to not allow themself to talk too loudly in the library. Harry and Draco strayed away together, as Harry just followed his friend without any real aim. Harry felt as if his mind was a pleasant buzz of emptiness, as the feeling of finally being able to relax after all the stress with the Trimagus Tournament had left him almost numb to the world. He picked a book at random from the same shelf as Draco without looking, then returned with him to the table. 

However, when they returned they found Dobby by the table. He looked up once he heard Harry and Draco, upon seeing them his face lit up and his ears did a little twitch which would have been cute if Dobby had been an animal and not a person. 

“Mr. Draco Malfoy. Mr. Harry Lupin.” Dobby gave them a small bow, not of submission, but as a greeting. “Dobby was asked by Headmaster Professor Dumbledore to gather at his office to discuss something about the Trimagus Tournament. He said that you need not worry about anything, and that the door is open so you may just come inside. Professor Potion Master Snape will be there as well.”

“Oh, ah… Alright.” Harry tried to hide his disappointment in being called away again when he really wanted to just relax for the day. 

Dobby noticed his aversion. “Headmaster Professor Dumbledore said it will not take too long.” 

“I see.” Harry didn’t quite believe it, but he wasn’t about to refuse a summoning from the Headmaster. He glanced towards his friends with a longing look forming on his face. 

“We’ll be here when you come back.” Draco promised him. He reached out to gently pull the book which Harry was holding out of his grip. In doing so, his fingers brushed against Harry’s, gently offering some silent support with their cold graze. 

Harry let go of the book, hoping that Draco didn’t notice his small shudder. “Thanks. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned towards Dobby. “Would you keep me company to the Professor’s office, Dobby?” 

The house elf’s face lit up with excitement. “Me? That would be an honour!” He stopped to think for a second, then continued. “But not because Harry Lupin is famous, but because Dobby likes him as an acquaintance.” 

Harry smiled, wondering if the Malfoy family had taught the elf that word, or if he had picked it up at Hogwarts. Together, the two of them walked towards the Headmaster’s office, with Dobby happily chatting away about how happy he was that Harry didn’t have to compete in the Trimagus Tournament. Harry appreciated his concerns, and was happy to learn that Dobby’s company was becoming more and more tolerable every time they met. 

In the Headmaster’s office, Harry found himself in the company of the Hogwarts and Durmstrang Headmasters, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, the three champions, as well as Professor Snape and Mr. Bagman. Dobby excused himself by the entrance, leaving Harry to enter on his own. The Headmaster's office looked just the same as Harry recalled it, spacious and full of bookcases containing extravagant and simple magical objects, all of which were displayed with equal importance. Upon a shelf, Harry noticed the sleeping form of the Sorting Hat. Close to the Headmaster’s desk but not close enough to reach anything flammable, sat Fawkes the Phoenix upon his stand. The atmosphere in the room was relaxed, with at least half of the people in the room drinking varying beverages from cups which Harry recognised from his second year, when Professor Dumbledore had served him and his friends drinks from those very same cups. 

“Welcome, Mr. Lupin, thank you for coming.” Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry from over by his desk. “Would you like something to drink as we have a short talk about the coming task and the Yule Ball?” 

“I’d much enjoy something to drink, please.” Harry mimicked Dobby and bowed slightly towards the entire room in a greeting, before he moved to stand next to Professor Snape, giving him a short greeting as well. It was short because he didn’t want to take more time away from the rest of the group. The Professor returned the greeting with a polite nod. 

The Headmaster of Hogwarts nodded happily as a cup came hovering towards Harry. As it flew by the phoenix, Fawkes snapped after it in a playful manner. Harry took that to mean that the bird might be recently reborn, as the behavior seemed to be something a young bird would do. As Harry accepted the cup, he saw it fill with hot cocoa, and he knew from the scent that it would be just as delicious as the one his dad made for him. Harry happily sipped some as he listened to Mr. Bagman who began to speak. 

“Crouch is at home, being sick, so I’ll be speaking for the Ministry alone today. Great work yesterday everyone, you were all very impressive. The crowd loved your trick with the broom, Mr. Krum!” He cheered in Krum’s direction. 

After exchanging a quick word with Headmaster Karkaroff in Bulgarian, Krum turned towards Mr. Bagman. “Thank you.” 

To Harry, it was clear that the man and his student had gone through Krum’s usual routine of asking what someone had said so that he could answer. It made Harry rather happy to see that Headmaster Karkaroff seemingly had no objections or problems with repeating things for his student’s comfort and awareness. 

“And you two, both very quick, and the only real action came from the battle of the dog and the dragon!” Mr. Bagman continued, addressing Delacour and Diggory as well. “I know the judges were a little hard on you, boy, but the combat made for some excellent entertainment for the audience.” 

“Ah, yes. For the audience.” Diggory crossed his arms, leaning on his hip as he looked Mr. Bagman up and down. “Good thing that they were entertained while I’m competing for the glory of the school. Couldn’t have it any other way.” 

Mr. Bagman recognised the disapproval in his voice, and quickly continued speaking “well! I suppose the three of you have tried to open your golden eggs then?” 

All three champions looked highly uncomfortable at the question, while Harry looked between them. Whatever was inside the egg, it wasn’t something that any of the older students had found pleasant. Harry felt a small wave of relief wash over him at the thought that he would never have to know whatever horrible thing was inside the golden egg. 

“You have until the 24th of February to figure out what the clue inside the golden egg is, and prepare yourself accordingly for the second trial. Best of luck!” Mr. Bagman clapped his hands together. Harry had expected that that would be the end of it, but the man continued to speak. “As for Mr. Lupin, we have all deemed it to be safer if you resign at the scene of the trials, as resigning before, or have you completely disqualified might come with some unforeseen magical consequences. In practice, this means that all you have to do is show up, resign, and then sit back and watch the trial unfold.” He nodded eagerly at Harry. 

Harry offered him a small, tense smile in return, one that was meant to look relaxed, but came off as stressed. Mr. Bagman didn’t notice at all, or if he did, he was better than Harry at hiding discomfort. 

“But that is in February, now in December, we have something quite more pressing to discuss, namely the traditional Trimagus Yule Ball!” Mr. Bagman paused for effect. 

This time, the champions looked between themselves with some manner of excitement. In the stress of being chosen as the champions and practicing for the first trial, they had forgotten all about the Yule Ball, despite technically knowing that it would be held this year. 

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke up. “The Yule Ball will be held after the start of the Winter Holiday break, on the 19th of December. The original idea was to only allow students from the seventh year to attend, but with the inclusion of Mr. Lupin into the Trimagus Tournament, we are considering expanding the ball to allow for all students from the fourth year up to attend. However, this is only if Mr. Lupin would wish to attend the Yule Ball.” 

Diggory quickly spoke up while Harry was still processing what the Headmaster had just said. “Wait, only seven year students? Can no younger students be allowed, even if invited by a seventh year?” 

Headmaster Karkaroff scoffed. “No, if there is a minimum age limit, it will not be bent for the sake of allowing students under that age limit to attend. What foolish type of system would that be? If a student is deemed too young, then that is not going to change just because they are taken to the ball by someone older. This is a ball, not a babysitting event.” 

“That is… a very honest way of putting it, Igor…” Madam Maxime shook her head as a slight expression of disapproval thinned her lips and eyes. “However, he is right. The age limit is set for a reason, and quite the many things need to be tweaked to allow more and younger students to attend, especially in terms of food and drink.” 

Harry was beginning to feel quite uncertain of everything. He glanced up at Professor Snape, mostly so that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge that Diggory was staring at him with an almost hungry, demanding expression. At least for being Diggory, who until then hadn’t looked like he wanted something before. 

“From a purely political course of action,” Professor Snape began, addressing only Harry. His expression was calm and professional, although as Harry was standing so close to him, he could see a slight hint of bitterness in his eyes. “You have quite a lot to gain from electing to go to the Yule Ball. Many of the students who have criticised your involuntary inclusion in the Trimagus Tournament would be given something out of it if you elected to go to the Yule Ball, as that would allow them to go as well. In summary, you going to the Yule Ball would allow many more students to go as well, and it would make them more pacified with you when they would otherwise be dissatisfied, childish as that may be.” 

“Because them being allowed to go to the ball because of me would make them feel like they have gained something as well?” Harry raised an eyebrow at the Head of his House, hoping that he had understood what Professor Snape was trying to say. 

The man nodded. “Indeed.” 

“Not to mention, after all the horror and stress you have been put through, we believe that we are owed you some fun and happiness. If you want it, of course.” Professor Dumbledore smiled happily at Harry, leaning his head to the side. “Why, when I was fourteen, I wanted nothing more to go to a ball.” A distant and pleased look entered his eyes as he glanced off into the distance. 

Madame Maxime sighed with a slightly dreaming look on her face. She appeared to think back to her own youth, perhaps even imagining a small version of herself who also desired to go to a ball. The Headmaster and the Headmistress were lost in their own memories for the moment, thus, neither of them noticed that Headmaster Karkaroff was staring at Professor Dumbledore with an expression of a man that couldn’t possibly imagined that the old man before him had possibly been a fourteen year old. Mr. Bagman’s expression was much the same. Harry glanced at Professor Snape, whose memories of his youth, or any Yule Balls during that youth, didn’t appear to be what he wanted to think about for the moment. 

The silence lingered, which made Harry feel slightly insecure, but he still managed to gather enough courage to speak up. “May I think about it? The offer about the Yule Ball, I mean. I would like to discuss it a bit with my friends, to hear what they think.”

“Why would that b-” Headmaster Karkaroff began to object, but he was stopped by the Headmaster of Hogwarts speaking up. 

“As it would affect them as well, Igor, I believe that it would be very valid to hear what his friends think about the suggestion.” Professor Dumbledore smiled softly at the younger Headmaster. 

Headmaster Karkaroff rolled his eyes, but stopped talking. At the very least, he knew when he was outspoken. 

“I’m not trying to push you, Lupin, but I would much enjoy it if you think about going to the Yule Ball.” Diggory tried to not appear demanding with Harry, but there was a hint of longing or desperation in his voice. 

Harry wondered if he had a younger partner, and wanted to bring them to the Yule Ball. It would explain Diggory’s apparent desperation to allow younger students to attend. 

“It’s… It’s not that I don’t think that attending the Yule Ball sounds… tempting. And fun.” Harry glanced from Diggory to Professor Dumbledore. “But I would really like some time to think this over. When do I have to, uh, decide?” 

“We’d like an answer before the first of December.” Mr. Bagman smiled at Harry, nodding eagerly. “In the meantime, the three champions should seek to secure a partner, as they will be expected to open the Yule Ball with a dance. That applies for Mr. Lupin as well, should he decide to attend.” 

Harry bit his lower lip, feeling his heart sink in his chest. While he believed the ball to be a generally entertaining event, and would no doubt make for a memorable evening, the requirement of dancing in front of a large group of people made his head spin with fear. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Draco would beyond doubt know how to dance, and would definitely teach him if he asked. 

“There will be classes held to help students who are weak when it comes to dancing.” Madam Maxime smiled gently towards Krum, she apparently hadn’t noticed that Harry was nervous as well. 

Krum had been nervously chewing on his lower lip since dancing was mentioned, but he breathed out with relief when dance classes were mentioned. He opened his mouth to say something, but his words ended up being in Bulgarian. Krum realised his mistake, cleared his throat, before responding in English this time, “good.” 

Delacour smiled at Krum, leaning their head to the side with a slightly playful expression on their face. “I happen to be a very accomplished dancer, if you need extra lessons, you can always come to me. That applies to both of you.” They winked twice, once at Diggory and once at Krum separately. 

Krum nodded approvingly, then looked at the Durmstrang Headmaster. “Can we go with other champions so that we don’t have to find a partner?” 

“Krum, anyone would want to go with you, you won’t have any trouble finding someone…” Diggory put his hands on his own hips. “Really, can’t Delacour take us both and we’ll engage in an opening dance for three?” He chuckled, only half joking. 

Delacour chuckled, clearly not opposed to the idea of bringing the two young men to the Yule Ball as their dates. As Krum had suggested it in the first place, he evidently wasn’t against it. 

“That’s not very traditional.” Headmaster Karkaroff sighed while rubbing his chin. He looked towards the other adults, silently asking for help from them. 

“Tradition got Mr. Lupin stuck in the Trimagus Tournament in the first place.” Professor Dumbledore nodded approvingly towards the three champions. 

“Well, then it is decided.” Delacour stepped over to grab both the other two champions. “If Lupin decides to go to the Yule Ball, we will find other partners, but if he doesn’t go, we will go together and open the dance together. After all, if there are only seven years attending, we shouldn’t steal possible partners from others.” 

Diggory laughed and accepted the arm, smiling at the other champions. “That’s great. if it is you two, then Cho won’t be upset with me for going with someone else.” 

Krum actually smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, or an overly excited one, but it was a smile nonetheless. He accepted Delacour’s arm as well, nodding. “Great idea. I support it.” 

And with that, the three champions had decided the outcome of the Yule Ball and their partners. Headmaster Karkaroff and Mr. Bagman looked at one another with slight worry, but Professor Dumbledore and Headmistress Maxime both looked at the future generation with pride. Professor Snape nodded to himself, neither invested or disinterested. Harry found himself feeling very relieved that the three champions had made plans which allowed for him to make his own choices, but which didn’t demand a certain choice from him. In fact, the suggestion of Delacour taking both of the other champions meant that Diggory no longer felt as stressed about not being allowed to bring his younger girlfriend to the ball. 

The company remained in Professor Dumbledore’s office for a little longer, but the conversation was pretty much over. Harry finished his hot cocoa, thanked Professor Dumbledore for it, and excused himself from the Headmaster’s office to return to his friends. Harry made it out the door to the office and a few more steps before Krum caught up to him. 

“Lupin, can I have a second?” Krum caught up to Harry. There was a small frown on his face which made Harry think that he might be slightly uncertain about something. 

“Yes, of course,” said Harry, stopping to give the older student his attention, despite him wanting nothing more than to return to his group of friends for a relaxing evening. 

“It will be quick,” Krum promised. “I was just… Thinking. Do you, as her friend, think Hermione might be able to help me with my homework? I am a little behind in some things, but I do not want to stress her out by asking too much of her. I need help with the English.” 

Harry felt how his own face turned into a soft smile as he heard Krum’s question. “I think that she would love to help you with your homework. And if she doesn’t already know the answers, I’m sure she’d still want to help.” 

Krum actually sighed with relief. “Good. I will ask her tomorrow.” With those words, he went back again, presumably to the Durmstrang Headmaster. 

Harry hurriedly made his way back to the library and his friends. The conversation really hadn't been that bad after all, Harry still felt passively happy. He even looked forward to hearing what his friends had to say about the Yule Ball and their own possible attendance. 

All in all, at least for the moment, things were good. Things were finally good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Transfiguration**  
>  As earlier explored in the second installment, we do not wish to create a world where living, breathing creatures can be conjured out of thin air, or created out of non-sentient materia, due to the rather horrifying implications it would have, and how drastically it should change all of magical science and society. 
> 
> Transfiguration in general involves some part of internal magic, and like a Patronus is being programmed to act in certain ways out of reference and understanding, and becomes as realistic as the person is able to create the desired shape. It is very tricky and hard, but is generally not permanent and cannot create false life with simple spells. 
> 
> In summary, Cedric's conjured dog is not a real dog, and it's partly that impressive for being such a realistic immitation.
> 
>  **Lucius's interview**  
>  Just like the children are speculating, Lucius was a lot more honest in his responses, and directly called out _The Daily Prophet_ on the illegal abuse of a minor, since slander against anyone can be taken to Court as a crime, but slander against minors is extremely frowned upon. 
> 
> The newly instated Governor role is badly needed, since Hogwarts isn't equipped or used to press coverage and this much attention, it is literally just a school. 
> 
> **Cage barrier**  
>  The wyvern cage barrier is generally designed so that things can enter but not leave, since having a two-sided barrier would make it harder to intervene if something would happen and endanger a champion.
> 
>  **Dragon Sanctuaries**  
>  Dragon lore is vastly changed in this work, and the sanctuary mentioned is made up for this lore. 
> 
> One of the most noticeable changes will be that certain dragon races mentioned in Harry Potter will not have the same origin as claimed within Rowling's work. This partly since she claims that huge dragon beasts origin from smaller countries or places with no actual mountain-scapes to hide. With the human population spreading itself like it has to this point, dragons are most likely located in areas much less accessible to Muggles, as there are still mostly untouched mountain chains and caves in the world. 
> 
> Animal abuse for entertainment is a present and past problem in both mage and Muggle society.


End file.
